


Thorns

by SorryOnlyTheMan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hanzo is hopeless, I'm so sorry, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor pining baby, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Sort of? But not really since it's more present times and ovw is in the future?, They all live in L.A. and hang out, Whatever its in the present, Work In Progress, its a romcom scene tho idk if that counts, oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryOnlyTheMan/pseuds/SorryOnlyTheMan
Summary: What happens when a chatty, confident, and ambitious cowboy meets a calm, collected, and quiet florist? What happens when that florist starts developing feelings for this cowboy? What happens when that florist can't help but overthink every little thing?
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 46
Kudos: 167





	1. Blooming

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first fic I'm posting to AO3!! I've been starting fics for a few years and I've never really finished one before so I've never posted one! This one goes out to my best friend who is starving for that mchanzo content <3

“Hey, hey, that’s cheating!” A southern voice calls out across a red velvet table, the smoke of a cigar lifting to the ceiling of a tight room.  
  
“It’s not cheating! It’s teaming up!” A lighter voice calls back.  
“Well goddamn! Alright, Ashe, team up with me! 50/50 of the earnin’s!” A young woman looks over to her immediate right to the western man sitting beside her.  
  
“Pfft, you can take my bettin’ money from my cold, dead hands.”  
  
This was a pretty usual routine for a certain Jesse McCree, that being sitting around a poker table with four or five of his close buds. At that particular moment, Jesse felt rather betrayed by two of said friends, Hana Song and Lúcio Correia dos Santos, as well as feeling abandoned by his third friend Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe. There was about two-hundred dollars on the table at the point that Hana and Lúcio teamed up, so stakes were very high. Ashe was just like McCree in the sense that she focused more on herself than other people which was part of the reason McCree liked her so much, but it was a curse more so than a blessing at that particular moment, especially with what luck the cowboy had had for the past few rounds they had played. It would be one more round before that session ended, and it would be one more round for McCree to make back the money he had lost.  
  
As cards were passed between hands, McCree felt his heart race a little. It was that little surge of movement in his veins that threw a smirk on his face, one that Ashe clearly took note of.  
  
“Damn, you look mighty happy there and you haven’t even gandered at your cards.” Jesse laughed in response, a staple of his when he’s trying to focus.  
  
Everyone exchanged suspicious looks before flipping their hands, Hana and Lúcio immediately leaning closer and examining eachother’s cards. Hana was very skilled when it came to making a convincing poker face, but one look over at Lúcio gave them away. McCree felt a little bit more confident. Ashe, however, was like a steel trap. McCree almost believed she wasn’t even looking at her cards for a second, but the moment he looked down at his own cards, Ashe became a distant memory. He tried to stay as stoic as he could, and when bets started flying, he stayed on the defensive. He had to admit that by the second betting round he was getting a bit nervous. He wasn’t particularly worried about Lúcio or Hana, but Ashe was throwing quite a lot into the pot, and that scared him. By the end of the betting rounds, there was nearly seven-hundred dollars at stake. A bead of sweat fell down McCree’s forehead.  
  
“Alright y’all…” Ashe started, a small smirk growing on her face. McCree started to worry. “Showdown!”  
  
Lúcio and Hana dropped their hands first, Hana’s being a high card and Lúcio’s being a flush. Ashe was up, and when she threw down her four of a kind hand down on the table, Lúcio and Hana groaned.  
  
“I’ll be takin’ that seven now.”  
  
“Hold up there, Ashe.” All eyes fell on McCree, his back leaned against his chair and the cigar in his mouth lighting up his face under his hat. The dim orange light reflecting off of his whiskey brown eyes was possibly the most ‘McCree’ thing any of his friends could have ever witnessed, and Ashe rolled her eyes at the sight.  
  
“Just show your damn cards, McCree.” He shrugged and threw his cards down, earning a frustrated glare from Ashe and a look of awe from Lúcio and Hana.  
  
A straight flush.

McCree rose from his seat to bring his winnings to his side of the table, counting through bills with a winner’s smile on his face.  
  
“Aww, y'all shouldn’t have. Puttin’ so much money just for little ol’ me.”  
  
“What are you gonna do with all that money, McCree? You should buy me something nice.” Lúcio commented with a charming smile, drawing a giggle from Hana.  
  
“Nah, I’m gonna use it to buy Angela something for her birthday. Some flowers or somethin’.”  
  
“Flowers, huh?” Hana reverberates, only to get a retort from Ashe.  
  
“Angela’s a simple woman, she likes sweet, easy gifts like that. You oughta get her some chrysanthemums.”  
  
“Thanks for the tip. Y’all got any good places I can buy ‘em from?” Hana’s face lit up.  
  
“Genji’s brother has a flower shop a couple of blocks down!”  
  
“Who’s his brother?” Ashe butted in.  
  
“I don’t know, I’ve never met him. He doesn’t ever go with Genji anywhere I guess.”  
  
“Is the shop any good?”  
  


“I’m sure it is. I guess you won’t know until you get over there. I don’t think it closes until around ten.” McCree took a second to pull a little blackberry from his pocket, checking the small screen with a squint. 9:23. He promptly took the winnings he was going through and shoved them in a golden money clip before pulling himself up from his seat, putting out his cigar on the side of the table.  
  
“I’ll see y’all tomorrow?” He called out as he walked away from the table, catching Hana’s attention.  
  
“Zen’s office tomorrow, McCree! 2:00!” She called out as McCree walked through the door, trusting that he would be there.  
  
After having left the small, cramped space of Ashe’s recreational room and going through the rest of her apartment, he opened up the front door and gathered his bearings in the hallway right outside. McCree didn’t have a fancy smartphone like Hana or Lúcio, so he really just had to trust his instinct when it came to finding out where that flower shop was. He only had so much time after all.  
  
With that, he booked it down the apartment hallway and down a flight of stairs, navigating his way through the streets of downtown L.A. He took a couple of wrong turns amidst his rush, but he managed to reach a particularly quaint little building by the name of ‘Orchid Alive” around 9:42. The building was between two large restaurants, making it look rather short in comparison, but it was a pretty sizable place for what McCree assumed to be a flower shop. There were windows wrapped around the building, but in hindsight it seemed strange that windows would be placed on the sides where there were nothing but alleyways. One look in the windows up front didn’t really help McCree out spare for the fact that the storefront was full of flowers. He didn’t see a person at the counter at the back of the front room, but one look at the flip-sign hanging on the door insinuated that the shop was still open.  
  
The door made a ringing sound as McCree pushed against it, walking through the doorway at an angle. The white light from inside the store attacked his eyes momentarily, though his hat took a lot of the visual damage. The ringing sound overhead echoed in the shop laying before him and cued some shuffling sounds from the back of the shop, stopping McCree in his tracks.  
  
“Welcome to Orchid Alive!” A deep voice called out from the back of the shop. McCree took a few steps forward only to freeze again the moment someone walked out of a door from behind what appeared to be the register.  
  
The man that walked out appeared a quite a few inches shorter than McCree, but he stood with such poise and strength that the cowboy could hardly tell. His hair was black, tied up in a neat and tidy bun with a yellow ribbon. He had a black jacket that had a large collar and a bulky zipper down the middle, hints of blue on his pockets and on the inside of the jacket. A cobalt stud on the bridge of his nose brought out the startling caramel color of his eyes. McCree smiled at the sight. He had only met Genji a few times, but he couldn’t believe that this was supposed to be his biological sibling. The only similarity he could find between the two of them was their mouths, though not to say he was staring at the stranger’s mouth or anything. For a moment, the cowboy couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn even in the right place.  
  
“Howdy.” He started, granting the smallest arch of the florist’s brow.  
  
“Hello.” He responded in a stoic tone, a serious expression on his face. It was slightly intimidating, which McCree supposed was the point of having an approach like that, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to make his good ol’ fashioned first impression nonetheless. He offered his hand and wore a wolfish smile, leaning his head up to get a good glance at the florist from under the brim of his hat.  
  
“The name’s Jesse. Jesse McCree if you’re one for formalities.” The stranger glanced from McCree’s eyes to his hand a few times before shaking his hand firmly.  
  
“Hanzo Shimada.” Well, that confirmed it. This really was Genji’s brother, huh? McCree pulled his hand back and shoved it in his jean pocket, leaning to one side and glancing around the shop.  
  
“What is it you’re looking for?”  
  
“You cut right to the chase, huh?” McCree chuckled in response, turning back to face Hanzo and flicking the brim of his hat up.  
“I’m lookin’ to buy some flowers for my buddy’s birthday. Had a friend recommend chrysanthemums.” Hanzo took no more than a few seconds to process the information before waltzing out from behind the register and over to the flowers, his eyes scanning the inventory like a librarian would to their shelves.  
  
“This friend of yours must know the symbolism of flowers to some degree, then. Chrysanthemums are given to represent a long life.”  
  
“Well ain’t that just perfect?” McCree strode his way over to the flowers Hanzo was staring at, both of them appearing to be the same type of flower, but by the look on the florist’s face, he was down to a difficult decision. He stared at the petals of his flowers with so much intensity, as if he were studying every little petal and taking notes. His brows would furrow if he found any little imperfection, and McCree could swear that he saw the flowers wilt under his glare.  
  
“Mr. McCree?”  
  
“Huh?” The next thing he knew, Hanzo was holding a few dozen flowers against his chest in front of him.  
“I’m sorry, partner, whad’ya say?” Hanzo arched a brow and cleared his throat.  
  
“How many would you like?”  
  
“Oh, uh… I don’t know, two dozen?” Hanzo hummed in response, the very slightest hint of surprise on his face for just a split-second. If McCree had been less attentive at any moment he would have missed it completely.  
“Yeah, it’s a good bunch, I know.” He laughed under his breath, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck. Hanzo passed by around the same time, the sleeve of his coat brushing past him. McCree’s eyes followed as if he was a dog and Hanzo had a handful of bacon.  
  
“I suppose this person is very special to you for you to buy so many flowers. If you’re looking for something for your spouse’s birthday, I would recommend the red chrysanthemums over the white ones.” McCree laughed aloud, his voice booming in the little shop and bouncing off the walls. He shook his head a few moments later.  
  
“Nah, nothin’ like that. Just a good friend o’ mine. Saved me from trouble more times than I can count.” He retorted with a smile, not really expecting any kind of response from Hanzo.  
  
“Trouble, you say?” He muttered under his breath, against all odds. He was quick to follow up, though, not even giving McCree a chance to go on a spiel about his trouble-making days.  
“Apologies, It’s not really my business.”  
  
“Shoot, I don’t mind story-tellin’.” The cowboy started, already having lined up a story to tell. It was really a blessing that Hanzo asked him more about something during this shopping trip, because he was really trying to get some kind of good conversation with this guy. He had a good atmosphere, and maybe if he made a good enough impression, he could come back one day. Flower shop visits weren’t exactly easy to make excuses for. Hanzo didn’t protest any stories, so McCree started with one of his favorites. It was a story from his senior year of highschool, one where he attended a senior house party and managed to start a little go kart race in the front yard and caused a minor vehicular crash. Everyone was fine since they were riding in little kiddie cars, but it was still a pretty entertaining story. To McCree, at least. He saw Hanzo nod a few times during the story, but not once did he catch the man smile, and that was a bit disheartening.  
“..And that was how I got the nickname Jesse the Jockey in my last few months of highschool.” Hanzo hummed in response, wrapping McCree’s flowers in some pretty, white tissue paper.  
  
“How rebellious.” He commented simply, urking McCree in the slightest. Ever since he walked in the man hadn’t spoken with more than five words in more than one instance. The cowboy could never imagine being quite so quiet, but then again, he did like to chatter.  
  
“I bet you were a real good high school student.” That time, Hanzo didn’t even respond with one word, just the arch of his brow and a glance in McCree’s direction. He would persist anyway, however.  
“What with how clean cut and collected you’ve been this whole time, I could only assume.” A few moments of silence passed by, the only sound in the shop being that of the plastic and paper Hanzo was using to decorate the bouquet.  
  
“ _During_ school, yes I was.” McCree snapped his attention down to Hanzo, who had then moved on to ringing up the copious amount of flowers into his register. A little smirk manifested on the cowboy’s face.  
  
“You sayin’ you kicked up dust after hours?” Hanzo arched a brow.  
  
“Excuse me?” McCree laughed at the response.  
  
“You mean you started up trouble out of school?”  
  
“Ah, well, yes. In a sense.” McCree pressed on that purely with his curious expression.  
  
“Hmm.” The corner of Hanzo’s mouth curled up the smallest bit as he continued. “My brother and I enjoyed having our own fun after our studies.”  
  
The smile Hanzo wore, even if small, changed the appearance of his face near entirely. McCree had to scan over every part one more time to make his new description.  
  
The man that stood behind the counter and typed in various numbers into a little money box now had a face that was soft and welcoming. His jawline was still sharp enough to cut stone, and his stare was so concentrated that it would poison anyone foolish enough to take it head on, but the smile made him look much less intimidating than before. The bun looked looser, as if he threw it up at one point without a care in the world, and his scowl had dissipated. It was a charmed look on him, and it reminded McCree rather immensely of a cherry blossom tree.  
  
That being, it reminded him of a cherry blossom tree because the moment was gone so fast that he didn’t even get to really appreciate any of it.  
  
“It comes out to 55.87.” McCree shook his head a bit and glared over at the ridiculously large array of flowers sitting on the counter in front of him. Part of him completely forgot that a purchase was taking place until that rock hard stare cut through him again. He was quick to pull a leather wallet out from his back pocket and flip it open to grab the money clip he had miraculously filled earlier that night.  
  
How much time had passed?  
  
After McCree handed Hanzo about seventy dollars, he picked up his bouquet and began to walk out the door. Within a few moments he had come upon the ringing door, his hand barely pressing against the handle before a firm grip had him by the sleeve.  
The cowboy turned slowly on his heel to find Hanzo right behind him, his hand clutching both the red fabric of his scarf and the fabric of his sleeve. After McCree looked back, Hanzo was quick to release him and hold up a few bills in the space between them.  
  
“You...almost forgot your change.” McCree arched a brow and wore a smile.  
  
“That’s for you, darlin’.” With that, he pushed further on the handle of the door and started to walk out. His hand raised beside his shoulder in an attempted wave.  
“I’ll be seein’ ya!” He called out before walking through the doorway of the shop and stepping out onto the street.  
  
It looked quite a bit darker outside than it had the moment McCree walked in, though that could have been thanks to how bright the lights were in the shop. A small device slid from the cowboy’s jeans into his hand, and one look at the time put him in a bit of a shock. The clock read 10:48, almost an hour after Hanzo’s shop was supposedly going to close. McCree turned on his heel and read a sign in the window a few times over only to confirm once again that his shop closed at ten, and he suddenly felt… strangely guilty and confident at the same time.  
  
He felt bad that he kept Hanzo stuck in there for so long after quitting time, but he also felt like maybe it wouldn’t be too outlandish for him to come back sometime that week. He thought that if Hanzo could tolerate him for nearly a whole hour after having supposed to be long closed just to hear a story from his rebellious youth, then maybe Hanzo could brush off the lack of a reason for coming back.  
Maybe he _would_ come back later that month. Whether he had a reason to or not. 


	2. Basking

“You...almost forgot your change.” McCree arched a brow and wore a smile.  
  
“That’s for you, darlin’.” With that, he pushed further on the handle of the door and started to walk out. His hand raised beside his shoulder in an attempted wave.  
“I’ll be seein’ ya!” He called out before walking through the doorway of the shop and stepping out onto the street.  
  
Hanzo stood behind the door for a few seconds, clutching a small wad of cash against his chest. His glare practically cut through the glass of his storefront, and before Hanzo could stop himself, he was staring. He was staring at the way McCree squinted down at his phone, the way his eyes opened when he was surprised by something. It was only until the cowboy suddenly turned around to look at a sign on the window that Hanzo thought to move, dashing to the back of his shop and nearly slamming the door of his stock room behind him.   
  
The stockroom really wasn’t very interesting upon first glance. The room itself was about half the size of the front room and metal shelves were lined against the left and right walls. Said shelves were packed with bags of fertilizer, unplanted flowers, various types of tools, and a few random things here and there. On the very back wall of the room, there was a small desk with a few papers on its surface. It looked like Hanzo had both his stock _and_ his office in this room, making the already cramped space look even less spacious. Hanzo had made his part time home there, though, so he hardly ever noticed how small it was.   
  
At that particular moment, pressed against the inside of the stockroom door, he suddenly realized the lack of oxygen in that room in particular. His heart was racing, his chest rising and falling as he scraped for some sort of breath. He really hadn’t gone that far, just a few measly feet between the front door and the stockroom...   
  
So why did he feel so terribly out of breath?   
  
He started pacing in the stock room, eyes glazing over the shelves he passed. A voice echoed in his head.  
  
 _“That’s for you, darlin’.”_   
  
“Ngk!” Hanzo called out, his chest bumping right into one of the metal shelves along the wall and knocking over a couple of trowels. He was instantly brought back to the world of his own shop, the sudden heat of his face becoming apparent. His calloused fingers rose to stroke his own cheek, the contact bringing him back to that same voice.   
  
_“Well ain’t that just perfect?”_  
  
Hanzo shook his head to push all the sound out. Silence fell in the room and he was finally left alone with his own thoughts. He walked over to his desk and sat down in a stiff swivel chair, his back straight as a board as he glanced over the paperwork on his desk. He had started working on orders for a couple hundred new roses, and he had yet to finish filling out the forms. A mug on Hanzo’s desk with the words “World’s #1 Big Brother” written on it held a few pens and pencils, and the stationary rattled as he pulled a blue pen out. 

  
The sound of a pen scratching against paper started ringing through the little room, and Hanzo finally felt himself settling into his own thoughts for the first time since… that cowboy walked in. Hanzo started calculating the tax on his order, pulling a small, solar-powered calculator from a drawer to his left. As the sound of small keys being tapped flooded his ears, his mind began to wander back to the cowboy. The way he would rest his hands on his belt while telling his story and tap the leather laying there. The way his ridiculously oversized belt buckle would reflect the light from the shop. ‘What did ‘BAMF’ stand for?’, Hanzo wondered.    
  
His pen stopped dead in its tracks, creating a small ink puddle on the page.    
  
_ ‘How did I read what was on his belt buckle?’ _ _   
_ _   
_ Hanzo felt his fingers tighten around the pen in his hand. He was just very observant, and it would have been more unrealistic to think that Hanzo  _ wouldn’t _ be observant of such a character. What with his absurd cowboy hat, that strange accent of his, the way he rambled on and on about his rebellious youth. Even though that story about the go-karts was rather silly and even downright stupid, Hanzo had to put an effort into not expressing his amusement with it. It reminded him of a time when him and his brother would get into situations like that.

McCree himself was a rather unique person. Hanzo could count on one hand how many times he had met a man with such an aesthetic, and he could confidently say that McCree was the only person to come to his store with such a will to make idle talk. Hanzo himself wasn't one for chatter, and he would have thought that the cowboy would have picked up on that with the first impression he had made, but Hanzo was actually rather glad that McCree was so insistent on talking. His accent was hypnotic, really, the way it snuck in Hanzo's ears and struck like a match against them… He could hear it even then. 

_ “I bet you were a real good high school student. What with how clean cut and collected you’ve been this whole time, I could only assume.”  _

Hanzo began to wonder what it would be like if McCree said his name. The long 'ah' and the drawn out 'oh'. How he would push a breath out just from the very first letter. How warm that breath would be.

**_Crack_** ** _  
_** ** _  
_**Cold liquid spread out on Hanzo’s hand, dripping down his wrist onto his desk. Dark blue ink started to stain the paperwork he was working on, and it was at that point that he realized that he had snapped his office pen in half in his fist. He was quick to drop the two separate pieces onto his desk and pull himself from his chair to run for some napkins. He didn’t have much more than a roll of paper towels in his stockroom, so his desk was doomed to ink stains until he could take some thinner to it, but he was hardly worried about the desk at a time like that. As he desperately tried to soak up ink with paper towels, Hanzo started to realize just what kind of path his brain was going to travel in that instance.  
  
He spent a good amount of his life learning how to control his emotions after a particularly nasty falling out with his brother, going so far as to travel abroad in order to find some kind of spiritual peace after the whole fiasco. After that trip, he felt like he had a perfect grip on all of his emotions. By that he meant he could repress them so well that by the time that the moment was over, he couldn’t even remember what he was so emotional about.   
  
It was with this fact in mind that he started to worry. The only person that had made him feel emotional to the point of destructive in the past two decades of his life was his own blood brother, and now… that cowboy. It was a good thing that a man like him probably didn’t have much business in a flower store, so he wouldn’t be visiting-  
  
 _“I’ll be seein’ ya!”_  
  
“くそ…”   
  
  
  
  
Angela’s birthday party had gone rather well, in McCree’s opinion. She held it at a popular wine tasting facility, and funnily enough, Genji was there, as well as Hana, Lúcio, Ashe, Moira O’Deorain, and John Francis Morrison, but the gang just called him Jack. Out of the seven people that attended the celebration, only three of them left that facility being able to walk in a straight line, and one of those people weren’t old enough to drink anyway.   
  
“Heeeeey, Genji!” McCree called out as he waltzed down the street alongside Ashe and Lúcio. Genji was to his left, Ashe and Lúcio on his opposite side.Genji hummed in response, bringing McCree’s mind right back to the night before in the flower shop. The sun was starting to set, putting a gorgeous orange hue over the streets of downtown L.A.   
“You didn’t tell me you had a brother!”  
  
“What? I didn’t?” He responded with an arched brow, strands of his green hair falling in front of his face.  
  
“No! I had to meet ‘im at his little ol’ flower shop yesterday!”  
  
“Well at least you’ve met ‘im face to face.” Ashe butted in, nudging the cowboy’s side.   
  
“Shit man, I wish you’d have told me, Genji… Your brother’s a sweetheart.”   
  
“Huh?” Genji stopped dead in his tracks, staring at McCree with a shocked expression.   
“He actually _talked_ to you?” McCree stopped and stood beside Genji, the rest of the gang only catching on a few steps later.   
  
“Well, I dunno if I’d call it talkin’, but he was pretty nice.”   
  
“Damn, Genji, why don’t you introduce _me_ to your darling brother?” Lúcio joked, making Ashe break out into laughter.   
  
“I would have if I thought he would have been sociable!” Genji began to justify, wearing that same shocked expression.   
“My brother’s never been one to talk much at all, he never really wants to go out and do things like this with me so I’ve never thought to introduce you guys to him. I don’t even believe you, Jesse!” He wore a mischievous smirk with that statement, and McCree’s mind flashed back to Hanzo.   
  
That florist was on his mind pretty damn often ever since they had met the night before. That smile haunted his dreams through the night and his mind through the next day. Any glance at the dozens of flowers he had bought brought him back to that icy glare of his, back to that low voice, back to that damn smile. He was so different from Genji, so vastly different.  
  
“You really oughta invite him out with us, Genji… I’d love to talk to him more!” Genji arched a brow in the cowboy's direction, but before he had a moment to retort, Lúcio and Ashe were reverberating the request. Genji was immediately distracted by their badgering, but he wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon. The group walked along and joked about Genji’s brother for nearly an hour before they arrived at Ashe’s apartment to lounge and play cards. McCree would have usually stuck around for a while in that scenario, but he felt like he had something else to be focusing on at the time and decided to head on back to his own apartment. His place wasn’t very far from Ashe’s, maybe a block or two, but it was _also_ close to Orchid Alive, he came to realize shortly after purchasing Angela’s flowers.   
  
Walking through the hallways of his little third-rate apartment complex was always a disappointment after going to Ashe’s complex. He didn’t have the type of money to afford much more than a three room apartment, a combination kitchen and living room, bedroom, and bathroom. He walked through his front door, the familiar sight of his literally westernized living room giving him a sense of home. He loved his brown leather couch and his cow-skin rug, and practically threw himself on top of his many throw pillows. ‘‘Throw pillow’ was a good name for something like that’, McCree thought as he chucked a few pillows across the room into an empty laundry basket. He had a T.V. in his living room, but he didn’t have cable. Instead, he had a little rinky-dink dvd player and an embarrassingly large collection of western movies with a few romcoms here and there. A majority of these romcoms were focused on Romeo and Juliet-type relationships, and McCree had to admit that those were something of his guilty pleasure. He popped one of the dvds in his dvd player and found a good lounging spot on his couch, clutching the only throw pillow left within arm’s reach and pressing it to his chest.  
  
 _“Akalar, what are you doing here?! The king will have your head if he sees you in my quarters…”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I don’t care what that stuffy old fool says, Jarnah. You’re the king in my eyes.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Akalar…”_  
  
Jarnah pulled Akalar into an embrace, his black hair falling from his crown into his face. Akalar, his tattered clothes brushing against Jarnah’s lush furs, brought a hand up and stroked it through the prince’s hair. The music quieted down, and in a striking moment, an arsenal of knights bursted through the prince’s door!   
  
_“Halt in the name of King Reynah!”_   
  
A pillow with a repeating pattern of a sheriff's badge hit the T.V. screen with a small ‘pmmph’ sound, dragging down the screen and landing on the floor. McCree had been restocking his throw pillow ammunition throughout the movie, and had found himself throwing pillows every time something dramatic happened in his movies.   
  
“Damn y’all and your rules! Let them crazy guys make out already!” He called out to the T.V., already having seen that scene a million times before. McCree took great pleasure in consuming media over and over again. He found that an experience was twice as great the second time he had one, so things like dvds that were easy to put on repeat were exactly his cup of tea, and dramas were a _very_ common genre to find in his movie collection. They always had the best repeat value, he thought.   
  
This particular movie he had chosen might not have been the best to pick in hindsight, considering the similarities between one of the main romantic interests and a particular florist the cowboy had met just the day night before. Down to the long, ashy black hair, Jarnah looked just like Hanzo. Again, McCree had seen this movie a few hundred times, enough times to know every line by heart, but the movie took on a completely different notion the moment he noticed how similar Jarnah was to Hanzo.   
  
Every tender scene with Jarnah made McCree press a throw pillow to his chest to calm the beating of his heart, and every close up of Jarnah’s features threw him into a heated trance. He wondered what scenes like that would have been like with Hanzo instead…  
  
 _“Akalar… This is insane. We’re in my father’s garden, for god’s sake!”_ _  
_ _  
_McCree grabbed a pillow from the floor. Whether he was going to throw it or hold on to it for dear life, he didn’t know then.  
  
 _“He’s never going to find out, Jarnah. This is just for you and me, our perfect little secret.”_ Akalar took Jarnah by the hand and stood close, his face a mere inch from Jarnah’s.  
 _“What do you say?”_ McCree wrapped his arms around the pillow he had picked up, an embroidered pair of saloon doors on the front. The fluffy pillow pressed against his chest.   
  


Jarnah took a few seconds to think, only to wear a little smirk a few seconds later.   
  
_ “...Take me Akalar.” _ The music began to increase as Jarnah pressed his hands against Akalar’s chest, and McCree’s breath caught in his throat. Akalar pressed his lips against Jarnah’s and let his hands travel down along the prince’s neck to his fur collar, fingers sliding under the fabric and sending a visible shiver down Jarnah’s back. McCree leaned forward a bit and held on tighter to the pillow. Jarnah let out a sigh and McCree took a deep breath. After Akalar started pulling down on Jarnah’s robe, the screen of the T.V. flickered and died out into darkness.    
  


The small remote for the T.V. sat in McCree’s hand and he was practically sitting with his face against the screen. He leaned back after the light of the screen died out, dropping the throw pillow and sitting in darkness for a few minutes. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to turn off the T.V., he had watched that scene millions of times and never had a problem with it before, but he felt some weird sort of obligation to avert his eyes at the sight of Jarnah undressing. There was no rhyme or reason, and it most certainly was  _ not _ related to any kind of florist or anything. He was just… very drunk that night. Very drunk from all that wine tasting at Angela’s party, yeah. His head wasn’t near clear enough to appreciate his favorite movies! A good rest would fix that right up, and then, after he woke up, he could go over to Ashe’s apartment and play cards again just like normal. Everything would go back to normal.   
  
Well, everything would have gone back to normal had McCree not dreamed about a particular florist that night. A florist in furs, and a cowboy in tattered clothes.    
  
That next morning, McCree made a plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note, i did test whether or not a bic pen could break with one hand with the friend i made this fic for and it was super scientific so i can personally assure that the pen snapping scene is totally legit


	3. Watered

It would be two weeks before McCree would step foot in Orchid Alive again.    
  
In those two weeks, he formed a good excuse for being in the flower shop, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit embarrassed that he was trying to see the florist again, but he was more embarrassed that he had to make an excuse. Usually he could just visit someone on the basis that he wanted to chat or hang out, but not only had he met the florist for the first time the last time they met, but he also clearly wasn’t one for chatter. Of course, McCree could certainly just waltz right into that flower shop like he owned the place and lay down his conversational skills, but he had a feeling that that would be coming on too strong to someone like that florist. Someone like him needed something subtle, like a quick visit to buy some tulips. He had to make sure to come late in the day as well, close to closing time so he had enough time with him alone. There weren’t many that would be going to a flower shop in the evening, so that just made him more unique.    
  
Not only was he preparing to arrive at Orchid Alive that night around 9:30, but he was  _ also _ preparing himself an outfit to wear for the trip. McCree’s wardrobe consisted almost entirely of denim and leather, but there were a few articles that looked vaguely normal. Normal being outside of the realm of cowboy-wear, anyway. He managed to pull a tight, white tank top out of his closet, as well as a red and black flannel. A good pair of dark-wash jeans along with his signature ‘BAMF’ buckle, a dark leather belt, and a reliable pair of steel-toed boots. It wasn’t common to see him without his hat, he was sure that Ashe could only count on two hands how many times she’d seen it, but he left his hat behind when he walked out of his apartment and down the street past his complex.    
  
In the two weeks that the cowboy spent  _ not _ going to Orchid Alive, Hanzo tried to entirely forget that he existed. The keyword being ‘try’. It seemed that every time a customer walked in, they reminded Hanzo of him in one way or another. One customer would walk in wearing a little smile and all Hanzo could think when he saw it was ‘His is better.’ One customer would walk in with a pair of boots on and all Hanzo could think when he saw them was ‘How utterly ridiculous.’ He never thought that once when the cowboy walked in, but if that style was on any other person? Suddenly it was ‘ridiculous’.    
  
Thankfully, at least to Hanzo, by the end of the second week without the cowboy, Hanzo had managed to finally tune him out. His heart wouldn’t race when the door would ring, and he would stop expecting to see him walk in at the very last second. It was on a Friday two weeks later that Hanzo was finally stocking that shipment order of roses he had filed for the day after he had met the cowboy, starting to stock them in the storefront around eight that afternoon. He knew that not many people would be coming in around that time, so it was pretty much like his store was closed but without the effort of closing up. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come in, and Hanzo let his hair down in preparation to move a ton of flowers.    
  
A good hour and a half passed without much happening at all, and around 9:23, Hanzo grabbed a bundle of red roses by the stem and dropped them almost immediately. The flowers dropped to the floor with a ‘pmmph’ as Hanzy clutched his hand, wincing and taking a sharp breath through his teeth. Blood began to drip from his palm down his hand, and he quickly ran to his stockroom to deal with the incident. It was a damn good thing that it was so late in the day, this would have been terribly embarrassing for any customer to-   
  
_ Ring-a-ling~ _ _   
_ _   
_ “You’re  _ kidding _ .” Hanzo groaned to himself at the sound of the bell over his front door going off. He pulled a small first aid kit out from one of the metal shelves and desperately tried to wrap his hand in a bandage before bustling out of the stockroom and standing behind the register, his eyes screwed shut.    
“My apologies, I had something to take care of. How can I-” The moment Hanzo opened his eyes, he froze where he stood.    
  
“Howdy.”   
  
“...Hello.” It all came flooding back. “Mr, McCree, welcome back.”   
  
“Aww.” McCree smiled and leaned to one side. “You remembered my last name. Do you remember my first one?” Hanzo felt blood rush up his neck and to his face.   
  
“Ah… I believe it was Jesse.” He didn’t need more than a few seconds to remember, but he didn’t want McCree to think that.    
  
“Well Mr. Shimada, color me impressed.” He wasn’t wearing a hat. It took Hanzo mere seconds to notice, and he took the opportunity to watch McCree’s whiskey-colored locks fall as he kneeled down and picked up the bunch of roses Hanzo had dropped earlier. When McCree rose back to his feet and approached the counter, Hanzo took a subconscious step back to somewhat distance himself from the only thing that had broken his emotional barrier in years.   
“These are some mighty pretty roses.” McCree’s eyes flashed down to Hanzo’s hand, the one that he had been absentmindedly fidgeting with ever since the cowboy walked in.    
“Sharp too.”   
  
“Indeed. I was rather careless with that last bunch.” McCree looked up from the roses to Hanzo, eyes trailing down the raven-black hair that fell so perfectly on his shoulders.    
“And how can I help you today?” The cowboy’s eyes lit up at the sound of Hanzo initiating some conversation, even if it was to initiate a transaction.   
  
“I thought I could use something to brighten up my place. Somethin’ low maintenance.”   
  
“You’re not home often?” McCree took that interest as a fantastic starting point for a conversation.   
  
“Not durin’ the week. I’m busy playin’ at bars and taverns monday through friday.”   
  
“Playing?” Hanzo repeated, his brow arched.   
  
“Mmhmm.” A chill fell down Hanzo’s spine at the rumbling nature of McCree’s hum. He could feel it in his heart, rattling his ribcage.   
“I play acoustic covers wherever the wind takes me.”    
  
_ ‘What a silly thing to say with such an aesthetic…’ _ Hanzo thought. McCree really was straight out of a John Ford movie.   
“How nice.” Hanzo started walking out from behind the register, approaching McCree and offering his hands. The cowboy gently handed him the roses in his arms, their hands brushing past each other very briefly. It was like a wave of electricity manifested from that small touch, though, and Hanzo was quick to back away with the roses and bustle off to place them where they belonged. With his back faced to McCree, he lost the pleasure of being able to gaze upon his face, but gained the ability to focus on what he was supposed to be doing.    
“Was there a specific flower you were looking to invest in?”   
  
“Hmm…” That hum cut through the very floor itself and seemed to seep up from Hanzo’s feet to his chest, sending a saccharine heat to his face. He hoped that he would stop with that humming, but also prayed that it would never end at the same time. It was a rather frightening sentiment to have flowing through his head, if he was honest.    
“I feel like somethin’ red would be nice. Red is a bright, passionate color, ain’t it?”    
  
“I suppose that would be a way to describe it.” After having placed the roses where they belonged, Hanzo walked a further ways down the line of flowers he was in front of and stopped in front of a block of bright red flaura.    
  
Hanzo organized his shop by color rather than species of flowers, and he could name a few florists that would disapprove of this technique of flower raising, but he really put his flowers by color category for the sake of his own memory. He felt that he could remember exactly which flowers required which techniques of care just by their color, and if it came down to two different flowers with the same color, then he would delve into specific species. Perhaps it made it a bit harder to keep all of the appropriate plants in the appropriate amount of sunlight, but it was all for the sake of his convenience, and as of that very moment, he suddenly felt  _ very _ glad that his store was organized the way it was. He managed to stride over to the red area of his shop and pick out exactly four species that would work well for a working man like McCree.    
  
“What type of covers do you play in these bars? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.” Once Hanzo turned to face McCree, he immediately regretted it. The cowboy was wearing a smile that could paralyze any man, and it did exactly that. He clearly looked happy to be able to share something about his line of work, and Hanzo wasn’t about to protest another story-telling segment.    
  
“Don’t mind at all.” He started, taking a few steps to stand beside Hanzo in front of the sea of red flowers and brushing his hand along some of the petals in the array. Hanzo wondered… But he stopped daydreaming the moment he realized he was wondering. He couldn’t let his mind go back down a road that it had gone  _ that _ night.    
  
McCree started to talk about his line of work, that being how he brought his guitar bar-door to bar-door and played for day-time crowds, and he absolutely beamed with pride when he spoke of his job. It was pleasant to see, and Hanzo would swear against it, but even  _ he _ smiled a few times during the cowboy’s ramblings. There was something almost beautiful about seeing such a character so passionate about their work, and there was also something just generally satisfying about seeing the bright, wolfish grin on his face when he told his most outlandish working tales. It seemed that the most interesting things would happen to McCree, and Hanzo wasn’t surprised in the slightest. A man like that was probably like a magnet for surreal things to happen to.    
  
Hanzo couldn’t say he was all too similar in that regard. He could confidently testify that a majority of the interesting things that happened in his life were all self-inflicted, and fate actually had a rather bland path lined up for him. Had he not gotten himself into such a ridiculous fight with his younger brother after his highschool years, he would have pursued a simple life of basic education and employment. However, he was standing in his very own flower shop, so things clearly didn’t end up that way.    
  
Not only was he standing in his very own flower shop, but he was standing in his very own flower shop in the company of a man that had thoroughly rattled Hanzo to his core for nearly two weeks after meeting him for the first time. He couldn’t rightly put a pin in what exactly made McCree stick out so harshly to him, nor could he justify why his presence threw Hanzo into such a tizzy. His heart would race, his face would grow warm, and he would receive something similar to tunnel-vision in the sense that the only thing he ever really paid any attention to when McCree was around was McCree himself. At the end of his story, McCree laughed and threw his hands in his pockets.    
  
“It doesn’t pay like royalty or nothin’ but I sure am happy doin’ it.” Hanzo hummed in response, a small smile on his face. Hanzo didn’t smile often, nor did he smile very impressively, so when he gave even the smallest of smirks, it meant something. McCree really loved… He really adored that about the florist. As Hanzo began to focus back on the flowers McCree supposedly came to buy, the cowboy brought up his own line of questioning.    
“And how ‘bout you, then? ‘This the only thing you’ve got goin’ on right now?” Hanzo glanced over for a moment before returning to his search through the crimson flowers splayed before him.   
  
“Yes. I’ve invested my entire employment in this establishment.”   
  
“You like it alright?” Hanzo didn’t respond there for a few moments. He felt rather hesitant to share his personal feelings on his business with one of his customers, almost as if it would be unprofessional to do so. He decided to paraphrase his genuine thoughts as some sort of compromise.    
  
“It wasn’t what I was expecting for my career, but I have found great peace in floristry.”    
  
“Expectin’?” Hanzo had to keep from smiling at the sound of the cowboy’s voice when it came to words ending in ‘ing’. The florist had spent so much time in his diction classes emphasizing those words, so it always came across as amusing to him.    
  
“When I was younger, I expected something much more mundane from my future. I wasn’t exactly sure of what specific path I would follow, but I had expectations of normalcy in my adulthood.”   
  
McCree couldn’t possibly express how nice it was to hear long responses from Hanzo. The cowboy most certainly loved to talk, in fact he did a majority of the talking in a large percentage of his relationships, but he also loved to listen, and he  _ especially _ loved, or rather, adored listening to Hanzo.    
  
He hadn’t really had the opportunity to appreciate it before, but when Hanzo began talking about his flower shop, McCree realized part of the reason why he enjoyed listening to Hanzo’s voice so much. His voice was very deep, but it didn’t rumble like his own did. It simply cut through the isolating air and rested, laying its peace and disappearing into nothingness. His voice represented his quiet, but strong nature perfectly.    
  
“I suppose a flower shop is some sort of normalcy, but compared to what my parents had planned, it seems rather strange.”   
  
“Well, there are certainly stranger things you could be doin’.”   
  
“Such as playing covers in bars?” Hanzo retorted with a smirk, a brow arched. McCree could feel a shiver seep under his skin at the sight, and he felt the smirk spread onto his very own face. ‘This is progress.’ He thought as he laughed to himself, his voice booming through the little shop.    
  
“Yeah, you got me there. Nothin’ much stranger than travellin’ around and playing music for drunken folk.” Hanzo chuckled under his breath, his breath pressing against the fragile petals of the flowers in front of him and disturbing the air for the smallest of moments. McCree had to flex the tension out of his body after standing so terribly still in the presence of that laugh, the seemingly delicate nature of the florist’s laugh keeping him frozen in place.   
  
Hanzo plucked a couple of bright red Agastaches from his selection, picking the very best of the crop and examining each one carefully. McCree watched with a perfect stare, catching every little bit of movement. His mouth would start to run without even a moment’s thought, his immediate consciousness enraptured by Hanzo’s poised and flawless gesticulation.   
  
“Maybe you oughta have your brother take you to one of my performances…” He commented absent-mindedly, his arms crossed over his chest and his hips leaned to one side. Hanzo stopped the picking of his flowers and turned to face McCree, which was what promptly pulled him out of his own stupor. Silence fell between the two of them, and two very different thoughts surged through their minds.   
  
Hanzo had to use all of his strength to hold back his enthusiasm, but a pit of worry started to form below his throat at the very same time. He worried that this sudden acquaintanceship would begin to evolve past infrequent visits to his shop. It would turn into more frequent visits, outings to bars for public guitar performances, personal outings… It sounded rather lovely, and that was the concerning part. Hanzo felt afraid of enjoying this man’s company, of lowering his guard and truly living in a moment, for there was only one person he could trust with that kind of comfort, and it was his very own blood brother. Attending one performance wouldn’t hurt anything, he thought, but McCree looked most like a fine bottle of rum at the time. Fantastic in extreme moderation.    
  
McCree didn’t  _ regret _ asking the question, per say, but he more regretted the sudden way he asked. He also knew just by the look on Hanzo’s face upon asking that the sound of a busy, bustling bar wasn’t terribly attractive to the florist. McCree had nearly forgotten that Hanzo was still a quiet man after their little interactions, but there he stood, silent as death and a concentrated hesitance in his expression. He expected to hear a polite decline, a ‘Thanks for offering, but no thanks’.    
  
“Perhaps…” Hanzo muttered, bringing the cowboy’s attention directly to his softened glare.    
“Perhaps I could join Genji for an outing like that. It could be… fun.”    
  
McCree stood completely still for a moment, perhaps one too long in hindsight.    
  
“Heh… Yeah! Just, uh, let ‘im know when you’re free and I can save you two a table.” Hanzo smiled and pulled the nearly two dozen’s worth of flowers to his chest, stalking past the cowboy with a satisfied expression.    
  
“Will these be all for you?”    
  
McCree and Hanzo engaged in lighthearted chatter throughout the latter half of their transaction, and the air of tension that had developed when McCree walked in the door had started to lighten up just as the cowboy’s trip had ended. He gave Hanzo a saccharine smile and a friendly wave as he walked towards the door, reverberated with a calm smile and a brief send off. He expected things to go back to near normalcy after that, and for another two weeks to pass before he even gave Orchid Alive a passing glance. Hanzo expected the same, but…   
  
That wasn’t exactly how things went down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say this chapter other than thank you guys for the kudos', and I'm glad you're all liking the story so far <333


	4. Rooted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to the music I mention in this chapter, here's what songs I reference in chronological order :)
> 
> "Drunk On A Plane" by Dierks Bentley
> 
> "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood
> 
> As well as Hozier's cover of "Do I Wanna Know" originally made by Arctic Monkeys
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy<333

McCree came back to Orchid Alive a mere three days after having purchased his Agastaches to buy more red flowers. Hanzo only questioned him once for this repeated purchasing, so the cowboy started making a habit of coming to the shop every three days. After the second meeting, Hanzo learned to stop asking what McCree was there for and instead just jumped right into whatever random conversation topic they had decided on. Whether it was the weather outside or the meaning of the red flowers McCree would buy, they always somehow found something to talk about, and the cowboy always found something to compliment Hanzo on.   
  
_“Your place is rather impressive.”_  
  
 _“These flowers are damn gorgeous, Hanzo.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“You look radiant today, did somethin’ good happen?”_ _  
_ _  
_These compliments would evolve and grow to more impactful comments, one that stuck with Hanzo for days after they had been spoken. It certainly didn’t help that McCree was coming in more and more frequently as time passed, and while Hanzo was endlessly thankful that the man had enough, or perhaps even the lack of sense to come in so late in the day for personal one on one conversations, he felt like he was progressively drowning in the ocean that was McCree’s presence. The only breaks he got were when he had a quiet moment to himself in his shop or his apartment, a moment when not even his own voice was in his head.  
  
These rare moments were both a curse and a blessing on Hanzo’s part. During these sessions of self reflection, he would think back to how he would react to a compliment from McCree. The way his heart would race and his muscles would tense. His stomach would stir and give him the most sickening feeling he had ever experienced, but his heart would also start to beat and throw him into a euphoric sort of dizzy feeling. It was the best and worst feeling he had ever had, and he couldn’t put a pin on exactly what to call that feeling.   
  
He couldn’t put a pin in it, that is, until the friday night that he joined his brother at a quaint little bar called ‘The High Noon Saloon’.   
  
The night started when Hanzo and Genji Shimada met up in front of Hanzo’s shop. The florist had long closed, closing a few hours early just to prepare for the outing. Genji arrived at the glass storefront around 9:30 and Hanzo took less than a second to join him outside. The moment he walked through the front door, Genji had something to say.  
  
“You know we’re going to a bar, right?” Genji tilted his head as he scanned Hanzo’s outfit over a few times. Genji himself was wearing a lime green and white, sleeveless hoodie as well as a pair of white jeans and sneakers. It was very casual, if not a bit athletic but that was sort of expected from Genji.   
  
Hanzo arched a brow and the question and gave his brother a skeptical look.  
  
“Yes? He is performing at a tavern, is he not?”  
  
“Well, yeah, he is. The only reason I ask is because you’re dressed like we’re about to go to dinner with the president.” Hanzo glanced down at his outfit and scowled. He was wearing a white, button-up dress shirt under a dark blue waistcoat, as well as a pair of slacks in the same color to compliment his blue and white wingtips.   
  
“I think it is perfectly appropriate. I’m sorry that my tasteful outfit outshines yours so immensely.” Genji rolled his eyes, entirely expecting this kind of response from his older brother.   
“Let’s go, we could be late.”  
  
With that, they both began to walk down the street, bringing up any number of random conversation topics and delving into miscellaneous hypotheticals. Hanzo wasn’t usually one to engage in much conversation with other people, but Genji was most certainly an exception to that trait. Genji was proficient in being able to draw long responses from Hanzo, whether it be from his unusual hypothetical scenarios or just his general charisma. Genji was always the more charismatic one of the brothers, Hanzo wouldn’t dare deny that fact, but he could confidently say that Hanzo was the stronger person emotionally.   
  
Of course, ‘strong’ to him meant being able to repress emotion in the face of professionalism.  
  
It was closer to 10:25 by the time they had arrived at the bar, and Hanzo was a bit upset with this, but he was happy to have gotten there at all before it got too dark. The moment Hanzo walked in after Genji, he felt intimidated.   
  
The bar was very clearly western themed and Hanzo felt the need to roll his eyes at the sight. It had swinging saloon doors after the I.D. checkpoint and there was a great deal of western movie memorabilia on the walls, as well as a selection of drinks that was directly catered to the modern whiskey drinkers. This bar just screamed McCree, not only in its design but in its energy as well. There were quite a few people seated at little benches and round tables, as well as a completely overcrowded bar area. Upon closer inspection there were actually two separate bars in the saloon and both were intimidatingly busy. With that said, Genji managed to fit right into the crowd, managing to chat it up with the bouncer at the front of the saloon before walking through the sea of people and landing a small table up close to the wooden stage area of the bar. Genji sat down on one of the benches and Hanzo took his seat on the opposite side, giving Genji an impressed look.  
  
“You’ve been here before?” Hanzo half-yelled over the chatter of the saloon, leaning over the small round table to hear his brother.   
  
“Not here in particular, but most bars are the same.” Hanzo gives his younger brother a skeptical look as if to disapprove of his bar experience, but Genji shrugs it off with a mischievous smirk.   
“When did Jesse say he was supposed to start?”  
  
“11:00.” Genji sighed overdramatically and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the time. It would apparently be nearly twenty minutes until he would start, so Genji took it upon himself to order some drinks and snacks for them to have in the meantime. Having idle conversation over the crazy noise of the bar was infinitely more difficult than usual for Hanzo, instead only picking the best questions to ask and the best to answer. Genji would ask a few questions about the flower shop and how it was doing before asking about something mildly more relevant.   
  
“I never expected you to hit it off with someone like Jesse.” Hanzo took immediate notice of that question and arched a brow.  
  
“Why not?”   
  
“Well, I hate to put it this way bro, but you aren’t exactly the most social of people, especially when it comes to the people that walk into your shop.” Hanzo opened his mouth to protest, but he really couldn’t argue with that. His brother may have been mischievous and troublemaking, but he spoke of truth when it was necessary.   
  
“So? What does that have to do with McCree specifically?”  
  
“Come on, man. Jesse is nearly your polar opposite, he talks to just about any and everybody he can and makes friends like it’s nothing. I will admit that I’m surprised he comes around to talk to one person as often as he talks to you, but my point still stands.” Hanzo had to keep from feeling too disappointed at what his brother had said about McCree talking to just about anybody, but he understood what he was talking about. By all accounts it really didn’t make much sense and McCree truly was his opposite.   
“I guess what they say is true.” Genji cut in, catching Hanzo’s ears.   
  
“What do they say?” He asked over the crowd, leaning closer to Genji, but he really wished he hadn’t. The younger brother wore a cunning smile, one that grew from one corner up to his cheek. Hanzo knew exactly what that face meant, and he could feel his eyes preparing to roll into the back of his head.   
  
“Opposites attract.”   
  
Hanzo could feel it in the air and he knew that that was exactly what he was going to say, but for some reason he felt really caught off-guard by the remark. It was something that he had considered himself, something that he knew to be true if his feelings towards McCree were anything to say. His friendly feelings, that is. Friends.   
  
“Yes, I suppose that’s true for me, isn’t it?” Genji looked over his brother, his smirk faded in the slightest.   
  
“I’m happy for you, brother.” Hanzo arched a brow and tilted his head.  
  
“Happy?” Genji paused and shook his head, opening his mouth to speak before the booming sound of a voice over the speakers of the bar cut him off.   
  
_“Alright everyone,”_ It started, the voice of a heavily southern accented man coming over the entire bar.   
_“Y’all know what’s about to kick on the stage here tonight.”_ A couple of ‘whoops’ and ‘woos’ went off amongst the crowd. Hanzo thought for a second on those sounds. Surely they weren’t cheering for..?  
 _“Our own Texas born and raised musician of The High Noon Saloon, Jesse McCree!”_   
  
The sound of boots on hollow wood repeated at the front of the bar as McCree walked onstage with a dark brown guitar strapped over his chest. He had his hat and his scarf on, accompanied by a leather pair of chaps worn over a dark-wash pair of jeans. His steel-toed boots made a harsh sound across the bar, but Hanzo could see the appeal in the powerful sound they made.   
The cowboy sat down on a little wooden stool up on the stage and pulled his guitar up in his lap. One foot pressed down on the stage and the other rested on one of the rungs of the stools legs. He grabbed a stand up microphone placed in front of the stool by the stand and leaned it closer to his mouth, leaning his head up and glancing over the crowd. He didn’t notice Hanzo with his first gander and started going through the routine of his performances.   
  
“Howdy, y’all.” He spoke over the mic, his low and rumbling voice shaking the very ground of the bar. A few whistles passed over the crowd and McCree smiled at the sound.   
“I got a damn good show ready for tonight, y’all know I always save the best of the best for this here saloon. Gonna start us off with a classic I’m sure all of you know, and you can all feel damn well pleased to sing along if you do.”   
He nodded off to the side of the stage, presumably to a group that was there to start up the background music of his voice and guitar, and the crowd ready to watch him began cheering and hollering for him, including Genji. Hanzo simply applauded as he got a good view of McCree on stage, past a few people sitting in front of them. McCree ran his fingers over a few of the strings on his guitar and his expression fell to complete concentration.   
He counted up to three and began to strum a few chords on his guitar, a drum and bass line supporting him not much later. The song he started with had a quick start and buildup, and he was immediately into the music the moment he started singing. His accent went from noticeable to unavoidable as he started singing, and Hanzo felt drunk just by hearing it.   
  
_“I took two weeks vacation for the honeymoon, a couple tickets all inclusive down in Cancun. I couldn’t get my money back so I’m in seat 7A…”_ A few people in the crowd had started singing along with the cowboy on stage, but the moment he paused and looked up to the crowd before singing again, Hanzo felt his heart go still in his chest.   
  
_“I’m gettin’ drunk on a plane.”_  
  
The song went on like normal and Hanzo felt the usual ups and downs of the McCree coaster that he had been feeling for nearly a month by then, but it was only when McCree reached the chorus of his little song did the florist start to drown in the sound of his voice.   
  
_“Hah! It’s Mardi Gras up in the clouds, I’m up so high that I may never come down. I’ll try anything to drown out the pain, they all know why I’m getting drunk on a plane.”_ McCree would lean forward and lean back with the inclinations of his voice, screwing his eyes shut with the strong moments of the song and giving the sparse wink or smile to any passing by. By the second time the chorus played, Hanzo was completely enraptured by McCree’s performance and he hadn’t even thought of touching his drink. Genji was enjoying the performance as well, though more in his typical fashion. That being by slurring the words of the songs McCree would play and hollering along with the crowd behind him.  
  
After finishing his first song, McCree went on to play a few different western and country songs about various things, even singing a song about a cheating guy at one point. Hanzo took the entire length of that song to appreciate the energy he exhibited.  
  
 _“Oh and he don’t know…”_ Hanzo watched as the low and grim tone of McCree’s voice built up to the second iteration of the chorus, his brows furrowing as he took a breath and slammed his hand down on the strings of his guitar. Hanzo felt his heart stop with the motion, just like how the music stopped for a few seconds to emphasize the chorus. The florist’s heart only returned with a fiercer beat the moment all of the music kicked back in, however, and he felt something of an intoxicated smile breach his face.   
  
_“That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seat… I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights…”_ McCree leaned back and kicked his leg up as he practically growled his next line.  
 _“Slashed a hole in all four tires… Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.”_   
  
About three other songs passed by after that, and Genji was well into his fourth shot of whatever they were drinking at the time while Hanzo had barely touched his second. He was too infatuated with the performance playing out before him, and all he could think about while listening to McCree’s smooth voice and watching his passionate show was what to call this incredible feeling he got every time he was even around the cowboy. The word was on the top of his tongue, but past the music and the bustling nature of the bar surrounding him, he just couldn’t find the term.  
  
By the time McCree got to his last song, it was nearing 2:00 in the morning, so a majority of the crowd had left and his songs were getting quieter and quieter. After finishing up his second to last song, he gave his thanks and messed about with the strings on his guitar before speaking into the microphone again.   
  
“Thank y’all so much for havin’ me here tonight, it’s been a real pleasure to play for you. I’m gonna send y’all early birds off with somethin’ slow and calm. A rendition of Do I Wanna Know. If you know the song, play along. Have a good night, y’all.” Hanzo felt a string of melancholy hit his chest as he heard the cowboy bid everyone a good night, a little saddened that the performance was nearing its end. As McCree geared his guitar for the last song, Hanzo noticed that he didn’t gesture over to any backup players or anything. He simply situated himself on the stool once more and began plucking at the strings on his guitar, an almost sad melody coming from its grasp.   
  
_“Have you got color in your cheeks?”_ Hanzo recognized the lyrics immediately, but the slow version that McCree was singing it in was so much different that he couldn’t help but feel lulled into its originality.   
_“Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the type that sticks around like somethin’ in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you’re in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week…”_ McCree’s eyes scanned the dwindling crowd once more, catching the same eyes that he had been seeing all through the night spare for two. One fellow was a drunken sort, slurring the words of the song he was singing and smiling like a fool as he did so. He had seen the type a million times before, but there was something very special about this slurring fool. The one and only Genji Shimada.   
  
One look across his table made McCree go still, his brain entering a moment of paralyzation.   
  
Hanzo Shimada sat at the very same table across from Genji, his head tilted and an overwhelmingly affectionate smile on his slightly rosy face. There was a single empty shot glass beside him while there were maybe four or five in front of his brother, and McCree didn’t really know how to react. He was already in the middle of his song, so he couldn’t rightly stop just for a single patron that had been sitting there for god knows how long… So he decided to do his best to impress instead. That past month had been building up for that moment, that moment when McCree would really shine and impress Hanzo with his abilities.   
  
Hanzo, on the other hand, reacted a bit differently when he saw McCree’s eyes lock with his own. He suddenly realized just how closely he had been admiring the singer, how much he had been humming along with his singing, and how heated his face had grown over the course of the night. Once McCree caught Hanzo’s eyes, he wore a sickeningly sweet smile and began to sing while keeping eye contact with the florist.   
  
_“How many secrets can you keep?”_  
  
The rest of the bar seemed to fade away and Hanzo fell back into that tunnel-visioned state of mind where all he could see or focus on was McCree. The song felt like he was singing it just for Hanzo, felt like there wasn’t a single other patron in the bar. It even felt like that song was written just for him.   
  
_“‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat. ‘Till I fall asleep. Spillin’ drinks on my settee.”_  
  
Hanzo knew the lyrics of this song rather well, able to read forward in the song when it played on the radio or in a restaurant, but he suddenly felt his mind go blank when it came to remembering the song. It felt like a completely new melody.  
  
 _“Do I wanna know… if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go. ‘Was sort of hopin’ that you’d stay, but darlin’ we both know… That the nights were mainly made for sayin’ things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”_ _  
__  
_Hanzo’s mind started going through something of a dictionary to finally get to the bottom of what to call this euphoric feeling in his chest, in his head, in his throat… Everywhere! He went through his basic understanding of emotions.  
  
Respect..?  
  
 _“Crawlin’ back to you…”_ _  
_ _  
_Motivation..?  
  
 _“Ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few?”_ _  
_ _  
_Perhaps appreciation?  
  
 _“‘Cause I always do.”_   
  
Hanzo looked up to McCree for guidance that he knew he wouldn’t receive. What was the word?  
  
 _“Maybe I’m too… Too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.”_  
  
Admiration, approval, esteem, reverence, attraction, co-  
  
 _“Now I’ve thought it through…”_  
  
Attraction..?  
  
 _“Crawlin’ back to you.”_


	5. Cultivating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit heated whewww man
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy this one<33

It was close to 2:30 in the morning when McCree walked out onto the bar floor from some backstage area.    
  
Hanzo was trying desperately to get Genji to take them back to the shop, but he was nowhere close to being ready to go walking down a dark street. He was so drunk that he had managed to start up a poker round between nearly eight other people in the bar, and Hanzo had no hope of bringing Genji with him if he were to leave. He couldn’t leave Genji there, especially not in the state that he was in, so he had to simply hope that nobody would come around and bother him.    
  
While Genji hosted and dealed his minor gambling ring, Hanzo chose a quiet bar stool at the right-most bar of the saloon. Since it was so early in the morning, there wasn’t a single other soul sitting at that bar, spare for the bartender behind the counter.    
  
“What’s your poison, partner?” The bartender spoke over the chaos of Genji’s card ring, catching Hanzo’s attention. The bartender’s accent was very strong, maybe even stronger than McCree’s, and it made the florist internally roll his eyes.   
  
“I’m afraid I won’t be having…” He started in response, his mind flashing back to the cowboy that played music that was seemingly just for Hanzo. The memory was fresh in his mind, the sight of McCree’s eyes locking with his own and the little smile that grew on his face afterwards. The way his eyes would shine in the dim lighting of the bar, the way his voice would rumble about in Hanzo’s rib-cage and fuel his beating heart, the way his lips would pucker with certain words…    
“...Whiskey, please.”    
  
The bartender nodded and pulled up a random bottle of whiskey from under his side of the counter, the sound of glass against granite cutting through the bar as a little double-shot glass hit the counters surface. Semi transparent brown liquid sloshed inside the glass and gave a strong scent over the counter, and just as Hanzo reached for his glass, the bartender pulled another shot glass up and placed it on the counter. Hanzo arched a brow.    
  
“Oh… Just one, if you-”   
  
“What, are we gonna split one?” Hanzo froze in his seat for a moment, his brain processing the sound of that booming voice crossing his ears. He promptly snapped his gaze around to face the man that he knew was behind him. Part of him prayed that it wasn’t that damned cowboy…    
  
And the other part of him thanked the divine powers for gracing him with McCree’s presence.    
  
Hanzo smiled up at McCree and let a small sigh escape from his lips. There was absolutely nothing but affection laced his gaze, in his breath, in his expression, and McCree could read it like a book. The cowboy liked to pride himself on being able to read someone, and if Hanzo was a novel at that particular moment, he would most certainly be a romance novel.    
McCree took a seat in the stool beside Hanzo, the florist’s gaze following him acutely.    
  
“I didn’t know you’d be showin’ up tonight! Shoot, if you’da told me I would’ve prepared a big ol’ show just for you and your brother.”    
  


“Really? I’ll be sure to give you a forewarning next time.” McCree liked the sound of a ‘next time’.    
  
The bartender was quick to fill their glasses and hand them over, promptly walking to the other side of the bar to clean some glasses or wipe down the counter. The sound of Genji hyping up a group of drunken, gambling country boys bustled behind the florist and the cowboy, but it wasn’t nearly enough to distract Hanzo. McCree had his full attention.    
  
“What’d you think of the show, then?” McCree leaned over on the bar with his elbow holding up his weight, his head tilted up and to the side so his eyes could visibly land on Hanzo. It was a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but the florist caught McCree’s eyes scanning his outfit and suddenly he felt like brushing off his pants or his shoulders. Maybe Genji was right, maybe what he was wearing  _ was _ a bit too dressy.   
  
“Oh, I thought it was just incredible, McCree. I really thought you were…”   
  
_ Perfect, mesmerizing, hypnotizing- _ _  
_ _  
_ “Amazing.” McCree gave a wolfish smile and tipped his hat, his bright white teeth glaring in the light.   
  
“Why thank you, darlin’.” Hanzo felt his toes curl in his dress shoes at the sound of that name. It was one that was growing more and more frequent with every meeting that they had, and after the first few times of having to take a moment for himself in order to be able to breathe, he had started getting used to the name. Anytime McCree used something else, he took note.    
“You know I’ve been playin’ at this very bar since I started my guitar playin’ gig. Near ten years by now, I think.”    
  
Hanzo hummed in response, tracing the rim of his double shot glass with his index finger absentmindedly.    
  
“You’ve been living here for a long time.” McCree shrugged and leaned against the counter, glancing over at Hanzo’s shot glass and letting his eyes track the repetitive circular motion of the florist’s finger.    
  
“Time passes like a warm breeze when you feel at home. One minute I’m 21 and the next I'm 37.” McCree joked, rolling his eyes and chuckling under his breath. Hanzo felt the warmth of his laugh spread through the air into his very lungs.    
  
Those really were some of the warmest moments in their visits, those moments when McCree’s laugh would boom through the shop and shake the flowers and Hanzo would join in with his own calm and timid chuckles. Hanzo laughing like that was so rare that even he was impressed when the cowboy would pull it out of him. It was at those times, those moments when they both shared a good laugh, that Hanzo felt the weakest he ever felt. Weakness to him meant expressing vulnerability, whether that meant by laughing along with a customer or by giving said customer a gaze swimming with adoration. It was completely unprofessional and frankly embarrassing.    
  
Of course, Hanzo only ever felt embarrassed  _ after _ all the gazing and admiring was over and done with.    
  
“Surely you can’t be much older than 22.” McCree commented, bringing Hanzo back to their conversation. He smirked in response to the comment and McCree visibly arched a brow in surprise. The cowboy took a deep breath in and really soaked in that moment. They were even rarer than Hanzo laughing, those moments when he would wear a sly expression and brace to say something witty.    
  
“I’ve actually got a year up on you, partner.” Hanzo retorted, putting all of his emphasis into the pivotal last word. McCree scoffed and leaned down, shaking his head and laughing to himself. The brim of his hat came dangerously close to touching Hanzo’s chest, and if it were to touch him, he would have collapsed on the spot.    
  
During McCree’s visits to Orchid Alive, the florist and the cowboy stayed pretty far apart, whether that be with Hanzo behind the register and McCree on the other side or what have you, so physical contact was an undiscovered realm for them. They hadn’t even shaken hands, and Hanzo was desperately thankful that they hadn’t, because with the way Hanzo reacted to basic things that McCree did on a routine basis, he thought he would have never been able to go back after something like that.    
  
In the few seconds that McCree was leaned down shaking his head, he was doing his best to gather his bearings. Thankfully he was already the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so an outburst like that wasn’t terribly out of character for him, but it  _ was _ very out of character for him to feel so affected by something as small as a wayward ‘partner’. He threw around the term so often that it really just rolled off of his tongue, but out of Hanzo’s mouth…    
  
He pulled his head back up to make eye contact with Hanzo, an affectionate smile on his face.   
  
“I’ll be damned. You look just flawless for bein’ older than me.” Hanzo flexed his muscles and tried to brush off the complement from McCree the best he could. Hot adrenaline began to flow through him in waves, giving him an unusual sense of confidence. Perhaps that was the whiskey, actually…   
  
“You don’t look too bad yourself. For 37, anyway.” Hanzo smirked as he fired back, laughing to himself in hums. McCree gave him a playful sneer in response, wrapping his hand around the little double-shot glass beside him and holding it up in front of Hanzo.    
  
“Shall we?” The cowboy proposed only for Hanzo to grab his own glass and raise it to meet at the brims with a small 'clink'. McCree shot the whiskey down his throat and screwed his eyes shut, feeling the harshness of the alcohol around his mouth and grazing his tongue over his canines. He glanced down at Hanzo and arched a brow. He was sipping from his shot glass, wincing at the taste every other second.    
  
“Aw hell-” McCree laughed, nudging Hanzo with his elbow. The florist nearly spat out his drink at the sensation, looking over at McCree and giving him a confused glare.    
“You don’t wanna be sippin’ straight whiskey, darlin’. That’s what we call a ‘take it and forget it’ kinda drink.”    
  
“What do you mean?”    
  
“Here, here.” McCree offered his hand and Hanzo gently handed him the shot glass. McCree knocked twice on the counter promptly afterward and the bartender was quick to pull another double shot glass out full to the brim. McCree held up Hanzo’s previous glass and looked through the liquid, giving it an intense glare.    
“You gotta just throw it down, Hanzo.” The florist shuddered. “It’s real easy, I’ll show you.”    
  
Hanzo watched attentively as McCree brought the brim of the shot glass up to his bottom lip and briefly fogged glass with his breath before pulling it up and swallowing all of what Hanzo had left behind. His Adam's apple bounded with the motion before he slammed the little glass down on the counter beside him and grimaced at the taste. He proceeded to drag his tongue across his teeth slowly, and Hanzo’s careful eye dragged along with it. His mouth hung slightly agape at the sight.    
  
“Like that.” McCree concluded on. Hanzo nodded absent mindedly and vaguely reached for his glass, his eyes completely stuck on McCree’s lips. McCree arched a brow as Hanzo’s hand missed the glass beside him, taking it upon himself to reach across the space between them and grabbing the glass himself. He proceeded to gently take Hanzo’s hand in his and place the glass into his palm. Hanzo’s fingers gently took a grip to the glass.    
“I guess I missed step one, step one is  _ pick up _ the glass.” McCree laughed.    
  
Hanzo laughed along with him, the corners of his mouth rising as he looked down at his hand. He proceeded to pull the glass up to his mouth, and McCree didn’t pull away. In fact, when Hanzo pulled the glass to his bottom lip, the cowboy pulled it up further and watched as Hanzo took the shot. He didn’t wince or grimace, he just smiled and drank in the entire moment.    
  
It was like a flash, a beautiful, hypnotizing flash, and the whiskey had nothing on the intoxication he had from McCree’s touch. Even with such a small, insignificant touch, Hanzo could feel his head spinning and his stomach flipping. He could hear his heart in his head, hammering against his chest and trying to reach for McCree. He wanted to be closer, he wanted to feel more of that heat. His mind would replay that damned glass fogging under the cowboy’s lips over and over and over again, and he could only dream about how that breath would feel against his skin…    
  
Good god, Hanzo was hopeless.   
  
Before he even knew it, the glass was back on the counter and the drink was long gone, but the thing that really pulled Hanzo back to the world was when McCree pulled his hand away and spoke up.   
  
“Good mornin’ Genji!” Hanzo furrowed his brows and snapped around to find Genji standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t exactly attend to appear as frustrated as he did, but by Genji’s reciprocated expression, he apparently did.    
  
“Hey Jesse. That was a great show tonight!” McCree gave Genji a small smile, so much smaller than anything he would give Hanzo.    
  
“Thank y’all for comin’! Shoot, I wish you guys would’a told me you were comin’ though, I would’ve prepped a round of drinks for you.” McCree shrugged and Genji pursed his lips, clearly disappointed by the missed opportunity.    
  
Hanzo had already long gone back to his prim and proper stance, expression defaulted to his stoic nature.    
  
“And how did your little gambling ring go?” The florist asked in a tone that was nothing short of unimpressed. Genji laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, bracing Hanzo for whatever foolish thing was going to purge from his mouth.    
  
“Well, it’s  _ going _ well.” Hanzo rolled his eyes and sighed, but he wasn't done yet.   
“I was gonna ask Jesse here to bring you back to the shop, actually. I think I’m gonna be here for a while. Akande and Amélie are waiting for me to deal the next round, actually, hah…” Hanzo couldn’t act like he was surprised, really. Genji attracted friends like a flame did to moths, and this wasn’t the first time Hanzo had to walk home without Genji just to be able to get any sleep. He opened his mouth to protest, but McCree butted in at the last minute.   
  
“Don’t worry about it, Genji, I’ll make sure he gets back. You’d better make it up to him, though.” He retorted as he pulled himself up from his barstool, brushing off his jeans and resting his hands on his belt. Genji smirked and raised his hands in defense.    
  
“I will, I will.” He leaned forward and looked over at his brother, a brow arched. Hanzo felt like rolling his eyes down the highway but he gave his younger brother a glare anyway.    
“I’ll see you later, bro.” He spoke with a sort of scandalous tone to his voice, giving the elder a little playful sneer before rushing back over to his newly found gambling party. Hanzo groaned and shook his head, crossing his arms and glaring at the bar counter. A warm touch grazed over his shoulder, pressing down on the fabric that laid there.    
  
“Come on, darlin’. You’re shop’s waitin’ for you.” Hanzo immediately felt comforted, a relieved smile growing on his face as he pulled himself to his feet and walked a mere few inches apart beside McCree out of the swinging saloon doors of the bar. As the two of them walked down the street in comfortable silence, Hanzo’s mind began to wander.    
  
His mind would travel down a few winding paths. It started with McCree’s hand holding his own, and how the heat that crept under his skin threw him into a fierce sort of dizziness. It sent his brain swimming and his body went just about numb. Even thinking about the way his hand would hold his own so tight threw him into a vicarious state of… What would he call it? Sickness?    
Whatever it was called, it was wonderful.    
  
The walk back to Orchid Alive was calm and quiet, but in the best possible way. Silence is usually a scary thing for Hanzo, despite how much of it he engages in. Silence has a high possibility of being awkward in any scenario, and Hanzo couldn’t count on two hands how many times he had been irreversibly trapped in the tombs of pregnant silence.    
With McCree, though? Silence was a moment to appreciate a moment. Silence was drinking in the environment and each other’s presence. Silence was… Revelation. Hanzo looked over at McCree briefly, eyes landing on the cowboy’s for just a few seconds.    
  
_ Attraction… Can I call it that? There’s nothing else to call it, really.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Would I know what something like that  _ is _?  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Would I know how to cope with it..? _   
  
“Hanzo.”    
  
The florist snapped his attention up to the cowboy who was now standing in front of him. The bright lights of Orchid Alive shined down on his features and lit up his whiskey-brown eyes. When did they get to Orchid Alive?    
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hanzo smiled and nodded before turning to walk through the door of his shop, only stopping when his hand reached the handle. He paused and quickly glanced over his shoulder, catching McCree as he smiled down at Hanzo.    
  
Now the florist was never very good at reading expressions, he could say that much from experience, but even  _ he _ couldn’t deny that McCree was giving him a certain kind of look. Even as he pulled up his hand in a half-hearted wave, he wore a smile that was nothing short of doting. As Hanzo was walking into his shop, he drank in the expression and took a deep breath.    
  
_ I’ll see you tomorrow. _ _  
_ _  
_ Hanzo was sitting on the edge of his seat waiting for the next day to come, waiting for McCree to come back and take his hand.    
  
In hindsight, he should have been careful with his wishing.


	6. Wilted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summary of this chapter::: ouchie
> 
> thank you guys for the kind messages, they motivate me to keep writing and im so glad you are liking things so far c'''':

Hanzo didn’t sleep that morning. He attempted to, and there was a small chance that he crashed for an hour or two against his desks surface, but he didn’t recall ever making an effort to sleep.    
  
No, he was much too distracted by his own winding fantasies to sleep, too busy bathing in his affection and adoration to even consider leaving that consciousness behind. He was done being held back and content, he was done repressing his unrelenting attraction to that damned cowboy, and when he was alone in the shop that  _ he _ paid for and  _ he  _ ran, he was going to do whatever he damn well pleased. Whatever he damn well pleased happened to be reminiscing on the heat of McCree’s hand around his, as well as replaying the scene of him dragging his tongue over his teeth a few times in between.   
  
In hindsight, he probably should have gotten  _ some  _ sleep in order to be somewhat prepared for the next work day, but the time for sleeping was long past by the time Hanzo had to open the shop at 7:00. He looked like hell, to put it nicely. Trenches under his eyes, his hair loosely tied with not much thought at all, and his outfit down to just a white tank top and a pair of cargo shorts. His tattoos were showing clear as day, which really was a feat for the florist. He could confidently count maybe three people that had seen his tattoos, one of which being his brother.    
  
The day started like any other. Well, actually, no it didn’t, in fact it started completely different from the other days Hanzo had been dragging through. With his hair a mess and his attire not meeting the requirements for any even mildly professional setting, he had to confront his regular morning customers. He had about four people that came in between 7:30 and 9:45, three of them coming for large orders for festivities and party planning and the fourth simply enjoying the practice of buying and sustaining flowers and plants. Hanzo could only assume that the woman that walked in every day to buy orange roses was notably wealthy, considering the amount of flowers she bought and how much tip she would often include. Hanzo would always ask Lena how her and her girlfriend were doing before she hopped along out of the shop with a smile on her face.    
  
The rest of the day didn’t fare quite as well, however.    
  
McCree woke up that day with a huge smile on his face, having gotten the opportunity to sleep in to 4:00 in the afternoon before having to wake up and go to Ashe’s apartment. Ashe had told him that she wanted to go do some shopping for her girlfriend’s birthday that day but needed some help deciding what to get her, and the cowboy could already predict how that was going to go. Ashe had planned this day about a week prior, and when McCree made the promise he did to Hanzo that morning, he suddenly was crossed with a conflict. Showing up at the shop around 9:30 in the evening was fine and all, but McCree felt like there simply wasn’t enough time that late, and he had hoped to arrive at the shop earlier that day. Not to mention that he knew it was incredibly late when Hanzo finally got to go back to his shop, so he didn’t really want to be keeping the florist up any later than he already had.    
  
6:00. That was when he wanted to arrive at Orchid Alive, but with the way Ashe had walked out of a jewelry store in a fluster by the cowboy’s side at 5:45, it was extremely unlikely. Ashe was in a tizzy, to say the least, having had no success in poor Brigitte Lindholm’s jewelry shop and started to panic. McCree sighed as they walked out of the shop and made their way down the street once more.   
  
“You know, Ashe, if you wanted somethin’ with her name engraved on it, you should’ve special ordered the damn ring in advance.” The cowboy advised, only for Ashe to groan and run her hands down her face, frustration boiling under her throat. McCree gave a few comforting pats to her back in an attempt to calm her down, which seemed to work for a moment, but the cowboy soon realized that she just suddenly got a better idea. She turned to McCree and gave him an enlightened look.    
  
“I can get her something easy and sweet for right now as a physical gift and then I can special order a ring today and get it in a few days! The question now is what should I get to hold off for a few days..?” Ashe started glancing around the street in search of a shop that she could shop in, prompting McCree to roll his eyes and pull his little phone from his pocket, eyes reading over the time. 5:52. It was really unfortunate that McCree couldn’t be standing in front of the register at Orchid Alive right then, engaging in lighthearted banter with his favorite florist.    
  
Florist… McCree’s eyes lit up as he tapped Ashe’s shoulder. Her attention snapped right up to McCree, eyes searching for really any solution.    
  
“I know a damn good flower shop just a block down that we could hit up.” The cowboy smirked as he spoke, mind already flashing to the long ashy hair of his one and only florist.   
  
“Flowers?” Ashe repeated, arching a brow. “You know I don’t have the kind of money to buy a ton of flowers, Jesse.” McCree shook his head in response.    
  
“Don’t worry about it.” He started, letting his heart do the talking for his wallet. Thankfully, he had just been paid rather handsomely for his previous night’s work, and the notable sum of the flowers she would inevitably buy wouldn’t harm him all too much.    
  
The walk to Orchid Alive would have taken close to twenty minutes. It  _ would  _ have, of course, if McCree hadn’t subtly been speed walking and taking shortcuts to get there. Ashe would have said something if not for the sense of urgency she had already been feeling because of her girlfriend’s impending birthday, so she spared McCree for the time being. With McCree’s speedy way of going and Ashe’s simultaneous urgency, they both arrived at the glass storefront of Orchid Alive right at 6:08, and McCree was quick to pull the handle of the front door open for his accompanying friend. Supposedly, it was actually supposed to be  _ him _ accompanying  _ Ashe _ , but with what McCree expected from his visits to the flower shop, he was positive it would be the other way around.    
  
At the time while McCree was practically running down L.A. streets, Hanzo was dealing with a newcomer in his shop. A man by the name of Jamison trying to buy something nearly indestructible for his boyfriend.    
  
“Listen mate, I just need somethin’ that ain’t gonna die on me. Somethin’ that won’t, ah, burst into flame if somethin’ around it explodes. You got anything like that?” Hanzo swallowed any of his judgement towards the blonde Aussie and walked out from behind his counter, strolling over to the golden yellow portion of his shop.    
  
“I’ve got Daylilies. They will blossom in any type of climate and are conditioned to live plentifully during droughts and long nights.” The florist looked back to Jamison to catch his eccentric smile as he stumbled his way over to the flowers. The sound of his metal bionic leg against the tile made Hanzo wince.    
  
“These are perfect! I’ll take a dozen of ‘em!” The Australian practically yelled in response, pulling a little hand-made wallet from his shorts and pulling out some money. Hanzo pulled out the very best flowers from the display and hustled back over to his counter to make the transaction, first wrapping the bouquet in paper and plastic before tying a yellow ribbon around it and typing in a few numbers in the nearby register. After paying for the hefty amount of flowers, Jamison happily hopped out of the shop humming a song under his breath, and it put a little smile on Hanzo’s face. There was something rather nice about watching someone walk out of his shop with a spring in their step, ready to give their loved ones the gift of such beautiful flowers.    
  
The florist proceeded to walk over to some of his flowers and tend to their appearances, fluffing up a few and gently spraying water over a few of them to give them that fresh morning look that made them so enticing to customers. Hanzo’s flowers were always fresh and lively, of course, but little tricks like that just made them more easily marketable. As Hanzo was spraying some water over a group of bright red roses, he began to wonder about a very particular cowboy that was bound to be in his midst sometime that day, as he had promised.    
  
Watching the red roses in front of him sway and waver as water misted over their surface reminded Hanzo quite a bit of McCree, actually. He was strong and attractive, easily one of the more popular things that Hanzo had come to know and was something of an icon for charm and affection. His cheeks would go a dark crimson, much like the color of the roses that sat right in front of Hanzo. The thorns were attributed to the metaphorical stinging barrier that laid between the florist and the cowboy. Hanzo didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was  _ wanting  _ McCree’s contactt more than he had wanted anything. He wanted the heat of his skin against his own, the flush of blood to his cheeks when McCree would barely graze the surface of that skin…   
  
And even yet, there was something that held Hanzo back from getting close enough to McCree to even consider the possibility. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was his own hesitance or something about the cowboy that intimidated him more than the want for his touch, that sharp and piercing barrier was really killing him. Maybe… Maybe that day would be the day he would push that barrier. The day he would maybe even nudge McCree with his elbow, or even dare brush his fingers against his hands. He shuddered at the thought, diving deep into his own fantasies before the harsh sound of the bell over his front door ripped him from his own inner paradise and shoved him back into reality. His attention snapped over to the front of the store, his eyes landing on the door swinging open and a shadow taking up the space in the doorway.   
  
A woman walked through the doorway, her eyes immediately scanning the store for someone that worked there. Hanzo happened to fall right in her line of sight, and she was quick to turn around and say something to whatever was behind her. Hanzo walked through the aisles of flowers at a reasonable pace, his mouth opening to start his spiel of an introduction before his voice caught in his throat and he felt himself take a step back.    
  
McCree walked in close behind her, his own eyes immediately darting over to the red portion of Orchid Alive before he gently pressed the back of his hand against the woman’s sleeve and muttered something in her ear. The woman smiled sweetly and stalked over in the very same direction while McCree’s eyes found Hanzo.    
  
Now Hanzo already looked rather a mess from his sleepless night, bags under his eyes taking an unsightly grey color and the looseness of his hair getting worse and worse with every step he took, but at that particular moment, the moment when McCree walked in with a woman on his arm, he looked like a fate worse than death.    
  
“Why good afternoon, Hanzo.” No ‘darlin’’ that time…   
“Sorry for showin’ up so early, had to run some errands with Ashe over there.” He followed up, walking over to Hanzo and standing a considerable few feet away from him. Those few feet felt like a mile long trench by then, and Hanzo felt anxiety pang in his chest as if he were standing right on the edge of that trench and were to fall in with any wayward wind.    
  
“Ashe…” Hanzo repeated, shaking his head and looking up to McCree with a blank expression.    
  
He could feel his heart crumbling at its seams.    
  
“You’ll… You’ll be buying roses today?” Hanzo asked, that being a question he would ask McCree just about every time he came in with the intention of buying flowers. Hanzo’s hands started fidgeting behind his back, internally praying that he would say no.   
  
“Hah, yeah. She needed somethin’ nice for her special day.” Hanzo wanted to keel over and clutch at his chest that very moment, his heart folding in on itself and bringing a piercing pain to his chest. He kept up the best appearance he could, looking McCree in the eye and nodding in response. McCree arched a brow.    
“Are you feelin’ alright?” The cowboy started. “You look like you hadn’t slept in years.” The florist would have brushed this off during any other visit, would have excused it as just an advising comment for him to work off of, but he suddenly felt like the barrier between them had just been reinforced with  _ thorns _ sharp as  _ knives _ .    
  
“I’m, ah…” Hanzo’s mind flashed between a hundred responses in minor seconds.    
  
_ Confused, angry, nervous, sick, tired… heartbroken. _   
  
“I’m fine.” The florist finally finished with, holding his hands contentedly behind his back and swallowing any other responses left below his throat. His eyes traveled to the floor in a brief moment of vulnerability, one that McCree caught acutely. He didn’t want to mention it, though. His gut told him to stray away from it, but god did Hanzo’s subconscious want him to press on it.   
  
“Well, will I be seein’ you at another performance here pretty soon? I bet I can land you a front row spot.” Hanzo felt his heart swelling and breaking all at once, the sound of the offer drawing him even closer to that piercing wall sitting between them and tempting him to fall right into the excruciating area between sickness and pleasure. He wanted so badly to say ‘of course I will, Jesse, you can catch me at your next show’, but that would have thrown him right back to the height of this hilltop only to roll right back down to its lowest point.    
  
“Perhaps. I do not know what my schedule holds.” The florist responded after some internal back and forth, wincing as he replayed the response in his head. McCree’s expression in response only made it  _ so _ much worse. The cowboy looked surprised, and promptly rather disappointed, brushing it off with the clearing of his throat. He furrowed his brows and thought back on their interaction thus far…   
  
What was Hanzo’s deal? Just the night before he was drinking in all of McCree’s attention and reciprocating some of his own, and now he wouldn’t even look the cowboy in the eye for more than a few seconds. Did he do something?   
  
McCree opened his mouth to ask before a lighter voice cut right through his own.   
  
“Hey!” A feminine twist on the southern accent rang through Orchid Alive from across the shop, catching both Hanzo and McCree’s attention in seconds. McCree shut his mouth.    
“Can I get about three dozen ‘a these here roses?” Hanzo listened to the woman’s accent acutely, taking in every inclination and noting just how catered to McCree’s own accent it was. Hanzo felt his fingers go numb at the sound, and the sight of McCree walking over to the woman just dragged him closer to the ground.    
  
“Three dozen? You really want that many?” The cowboy asked with a teasing tone, arching a brow at the woman. Hanzo felt raging envy fester in his stomach, but the burning feeling of jealousy was near instantly watered down by his crippling disappointment. The woman gave McCree a teasing smirk in response.    
  
“Well, you told me not to worry about it, Jesse.” Hanzo felt a pike cut through his chest at the sound of the woman saying his name.    
“So, can I or can I not get three dozen ‘a these?” McCree rolled his eyes playfully with her response and pulled that same leather wallet from his pocket, yanking a couple of bills from its grasp.    
  
“Fine, but don’t say I don’t ever give you nothin’.” McCree proceeded to turn back to Hanzo, holding his wallet in one hand and some money in the other.    
“How much do I owe ya for three dozen of your roses, then?” The cowboy asked with a sickeningly sweet smile, sending Hanzo into an emotion that was more… stoic. The florist turned on his heel and stalked over to his register, pressing a few numbers on the machine sitting on the counter and dragging along through the transaction process.    
  
“It’ll come out to… 121.45.” Hanzo muttered, looking up to find McCree handing him three 50 dollar bills. He took the money and made pretty instant change, down to the cent. McCree looked down at the exchanged money with a confused expression before looking back up at Hanzo and realizing the intention of the action. Hanzo hadn’t even thought to get change the past few meetings they had, and now…   
  
“...Thank you.” McCree studied Hanzo’s exhausted face for a few moments before taking the neatly wrapped roses in his hands and walking away from the counter, pulling open the front door for Ashe and letting her walk through before freezing in the doorway. He stopped and stood there for a good minute, thinking about whether or not to send Ashe on her way and stay behind to talk with Hanzo. What time was it? McCree reached for his phone, but the sound of a door slamming a little ways behind him cut him off and made him snap his attention around. The flowers lining the wall beside a door at the back of the shop wavered as if said door shut with the force of a warrior, and Hanzo was nowhere to be found.    
  
...McCree supposed that was the end of that line of thinking.    
  
“Jesse?” Ashe asked a few feet away from McCree, the copious amount of flowers in her hands flooding her view.    
“Are you alright?” She followed up with a concerned expression, throwing McCree in a bit of a conflicted state.  _ McCree  _ was fine, yeah, but Hanzo..? Hanzo didn’t look as fine as he said, and that made McCree’s insides stir. For the time being, and for appearances sake, he nodded and took the roses from Ashe’s hands.    
  
“Yeah.” He started, only glancing over his shoulder one more time before walking down the L.A. street.    
  
  
  
  
Hanzo pressed his back against the harsh, solid door separating him from his storefront and his stockroom. Pressure pushed against the back of his eyes and forced him to stare up at the ceiling, his back sliding down against the door as he motioned to sit on the hard linoleum floor. One hand hit the floor and the other came up to cover one of his eyes, throwing him into the very depths of the pain he had been repressing moments before to keep up appearances. He suddenly felt every point of McCree’s words scratch against his skin and dig into his body, the suffocating pressure of seeing that beautiful young woman walk in with him crushing his lungs to dust. It was silly, so very ridiculous to feel so crushed by the mere presence of a woman in McCree’s life.   
  
He should have known. He should have braced himself,  _ prepared  _ in some way, if not for McCree’s relationship or that young woman’s relationship, then for… Then for Hanzo’s own heart. He felt it flake and deflate under the complete crushing feeling on his chest. Figured. The one person to break through the shell of Hanzo’s emotions and dig deep into his vulnerability long enough to bring his guards down was the one to truly bring down his emotional walls. Wet drips fell down the already stressed bags under Hanzo’s eyes, and he immediately brought his wrist up to wipe away the drops. He really had no time to sit in his stockroom and wallow in his heartbreak, it was still early in the work day and he had money to make.    
  
Standing up proved to be a challenge after finding such a comforting spot on the floor, but when Hanzo managed to pull himself to his feet and gather his bearings, he was able to enter a completely thoughtless state of mind. It was a trick he was taught by his teachers abroad, one where he could completely separate his consciousness from his being and could fester until the spark of his emotion faded into dim light. He walked through the door of his stockroom looking infinitely worse than before, looking as if he were actually supposed to be laying upon the Jakkly sheets of his deathbed. He could hardly find the strength to care after splitting himself so harshly. It was his last attempt to save his composure before the workday was over, and it worked up until 10:00 rolled around and he was finally ready to close up. He had gone through the routine of his storefront, truly just doing the motions up until he began to prepare and tend to his flowers for closing. He went through the colors in reverse rainbow order, reaching the red grove of flowers near the front of the store and picking up a bunch of dark green stems blindly. In an instant of realization, he was quick to drop those flowers back in their holster with a jerk and yank his hand up to his chest, fingers trembling as he examined the center of pain in his palm. Blood began to trickle from little holes in his skin, and Hanzo felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. The tears flooded his eyes and pooled on the front of them until they fell down in droves, huge drops of pained tears falling alongside minor droplets of opaque red sludge. Hanzo glanced over at the apparent roses he had grabbed by the stems...   
  
How could such a pretty flower bring him so much pain..?


	7. Girdling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheww boy!! this chapter is a day late, but it's about 2k words longer than usual so i hope that makes up for it :'' 
> 
> thank you all for the comments and the kudos, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy this!!!

McCree woke up the next day at 7:00 on the dot.    
  
This was incredibly out of character for him, as well as taxing considering that he had conducted a show just the night before, but he had a purpose that morning. Past the morning drowsiness and the hesitance of his body, McCree was able to get up and get dressed in a total of twenty minutes. He even wore that same outfit that he had worn on his second visit to Orchid Alive, red flannel and all. When the cowboy waltzed out of his apartment that morning at 7:45, he had only three things in mind.    
  
1\. Get to Orchid Alive as fast as possible.    
  
2\. Figure out what was wrong with Hanzo.

  
3\. Make him feel better.   
  
As he was walking along the streets of downtown L.A. with a little pep in his step, McCree went over the interactions he had with Hanzo the day before. When the cowboy replayed Hanzo’s image in his head, he only realized just how terrible he had looked at the time. It was true that Hanzo had stayed up rather late the night before, but even McCree didn’t look that bad after a show. He got enough sleep to look like he was alive, and that fact brought him to the conclusion that something kept Hanzo up even  _ later _ than his show. Perhaps that was what put him in such a mood?   
  
While said mood was on McCree’s mind, he couldn’t help but reminisce on the way Hanzo looked up at him. He had a sad look… Almost a  _ broken  _ look. The cowboy never realized how deep that expression could cut him until he witnessed it first hand. If he hadn’t been with Ashe that day, he would have stayed for hours trying to get rid of that broken look on his face.   
  
Ashe… Maybe he was off-put by her being there with him? She could be a bit intimidating after all, maybe her attitude pushed him back into his timid nature.    
  
As McCree walked along the street in thought, he recognized the glass storefront of Orchid Alive. He started to smile at the sight of the glass, but that smile faded the moment he realized that none of the lights in the shop were on. All of the flowers were sitting inside in the dark, seemingly not watered since the day before. McCree arched a brow and approached the front door, his hand defaulting to the handle and pulling a bit on it only to find that the door was locked.    
  
“It’s… Closed?” He muttered, pulling out his rinky-dink phone and checking the time again. 7:55. Orchid Alive was bound to be open by that time, and knowing Hanzo’s uptight schedule, it was even more unusual that the shop wasn’t open when it was supposed to be. McCree stood there in front of the glass door with his hand on the handle in silence for a few minutes, his brain running over any excuse it could find for why the shop would be closed.    
  
Sunday! It was Sunday! Of course the shop was closed on Sundays, it made perfect sense. In fact, McCree practically laughed at himself for not considering that before even thinking about panicking. He decided to go along on his way, though it suddenly became apparent to him that he really didn’t have any way of reaching Hanzo when his shop  _ wasn’t  _ open. There had been a few instances where McCree considered asking the florist for his phone number, most of said instances being in the latter half of their meetings, but he thought that would be a very forward type of question to ask him. McCree knew that their meetings weren’t professional, per say, but they were… ‘friendly’. ‘Friendly’ didn’t ever really constitute a question like ‘Can I have your number’ in McCree’s mind. Perhaps he just over thought a little question like that due to his experience with previous pick up lines and such, he thought now that he had no way of contacting Hanzo and asking him anything about the day before.    
  
McCree went back to his apartment and prepared for a show that evening, testing a few new songs on his guitar and mastering old ones before heading out of town in a taxi. McCree’s performances would vary depending on what bars he was reserved for. The High Noon Saloon, for example, was one of the few bars that got an all-night performance, while on other nights at more insignificant bars, McCree would hop between a few different facilities in one area in one night. The High Noon Saloon had McCree booked at night every Friday night, and it was always the place that he would make the most money in out of the week. In turn, it was also the place that got some of his best shows. That night, McCree played at three different places in Maywood and got back to his apartment close to 5:00 in the morning. It was terribly unfortunate that he had to go to sleep at such a late hour, partially because he was dead dog tired from waking up at such a comparably early hour that previous morning and partially because he planned on waking up at the exact same time that same morning.    
  
Once again, McCree woke up that morning at 7:00 on the dot.    
  
This was becoming a trend for him, though it wasn’t doing much for his morning look. His purpose was renewed when he woke up to the sound of his alarm, a whip crack looping over and over again until he quickly gained more motivation to cut off the alarm than to actually sleep any more. Past the morning drowsiness and the hesitance of his body, McCree was able to get up and get dressed in an even shorter time than the day before. He wore a plain white tank top and a pair of dark wash jeans with his signature BAMF belt buckle. When the cowboy waltzed out of his apartment that morning at 7:45, he had the exact same three things in mind that he had the day prior.    
  
Unfortunately, that day would turn out to be the start of a week-long string of disappointment and confusion.    
  
The second time McCree went to Orchid Alive, the shop was in the exact same state it had been the day before, lights off and the door locked. McCree couldn’t justify that one quite as easily as the previous one, considering that it was the beginning of the week and by the look of the flowers it was as if Hanzo didn’t even consider coming into work. That night involved a very similar line of performances, though there was a bit less energy in his songs that night than the day before. Judging by the amount he was paid, it seemed as if no one noticed, but McCree definitely did.    
  
The third time McCree went to Orchid Alive, he started to panic. McCree couldn’t possibly justify Orchid Alive being closed for two days during the week. It really didn’t make any sense, and though McCree attempted to justify this sudden closing with a vacation of some sort he came to the conclusion that finding Hanzo on a spontaneous vacation was very unlikely. Not to mention there wasn’t any kind of sign on the door that indicated as such, and Hanzo seemed like the type to put up a sign for something as minor as going to lunch for thirty minutes. McCree had planned on having a very similar lineup of performances as the night before, but he cut off his performances after his first song. His voice was rough and scratchy from the brooding that he had been doing after seeing the dark interior of Orchid Alive so his light hearted songs sounded absolutely terrible. He made little to no money that night, and decided that he had to update his performances to match his mood in order to make anything worth tipping.   
  
The fourth time McCree went to Orchid Alive, he started to realize just how terrible of a mistake it was to  _ not _ ask for Hanzo’s number. He felt the unadulterated urge to contact Hanzo and make sure he was ok, and that broken expression on his face continued to flash over the cowboy’s mind unrelentingly. There was no justifying Hanzo’s sudden disappearance anymore, there was only speculating about what could have happened to make him disappear. ‘Maybe he had an argument with Genji and they were working it all out! Maybe Hanzo will be back to Orchid Alive tomorrow.’ He thought to himself as he sat at home with a pen, some paper, and his guitar. He was trying to update his performance before that night’s travels, and he managed to gather a pretty good cover of Oasis’ Wonderwall, as well as a cover of Nothing Else Matters. He was booked for three separate shows in the same area, as he had been for the past three nights, and he felt much more prepared for those performances.    
  
Ashe didn’t often go to McCree’s minor shows, but she felt like it was necessary to meet up with him sometime to thank him for helping her with her girlfriend’s birthday present. She thought that meeting up at a show would be the best idea, so that’s exactly what she did. She travelled out to the outskirts of L.A. on her motorcycle and reached a little bar by the name of ‘Rose Liquor’. The name was quite a bit more classy than the actual establishment, but Ashe wasn’t about to call the kettle black. As she walked into the bar, she could tell why the owner wanted McCree to perform. It had a very calm atmosphere with quiet patrons, and Ashe was able to find a good drink and a good table in moments. She would have been more surprised if she had found McCree in a real busy place, honestly, this type of place was just McCree’s glass of whiskey.    
  
Speaking of McCree, he was quick to get on stage and start his performance. Ashe had been expecting Jesse’s usual light hearted performance, but she was immediately surprised to find that McCree hadn’t given himself any kind of introduction or good will before starting. He simply started strumming a melancholic tune on his guitar and started singing, going through a few sad songs before reaching the last song of his round. Ashe hoped Jesse would give his typical ‘good night’ before starting, but he didn’t. He just played his cover of Wonderwall and packed up his things, earning a small round of applause from the quiet crowd. Ashe was barely able to catch McCree before he walked out of the backdoor of the bar, grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt and giving him a simultaneously angry and confused look. McCree gave her a look of surprise.    
  
“You weren’t even gonna say ‘hi’?” Ashe complains, causing Jesse to laugh a bit under his breath. It had been a couple of days since that had happened.   
  
“Shoot, I didn’t think you were here.”   
  
“Jesse, I was sittin’ in the front row of tables.” Ashe retorted with skepticism, only for Jesse to shrug.   
  
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I wasn’t exactly scannin’ the crowd tonight.” He responded, only for Ashe to lower her aggression and frown.   
  
“I did.” She said simply, letting go of Jesse’s arm and crossing her arms across her chest.    
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” Jesse sighed and looked over Ashe’s shoulder to the bar before making eye contact again.   
  
“You think we could do this at your apartment?” He asked quietly, bracing Ashe for a lengthy night most likely involving alcohol. She pushed past McCree out of the backdoor of the bar and only gave him a quick glance over her shoulder.   
  
“You’ll have to ride the bike.” McCree hummed in response, following Ashe closely and settling himself on the back seat of Ashe’s bike before riding through the wind for nearly an hour. The cowboy quite enjoyed riding Ashe’s motorcycle, it was a rare opportunity thanks to a pretty bad argument he had with her over stealing said bike, but when he did get to ride it, it was always a time for him to clear his head. With the way that night’s conversation was going to go, he needed a good clearing.    
  
When they arrived at Ashe’s apartment complex, McCree was able to construct a good excuse for his strange behavior in a matter of minutes. He wanted to say that he was feeling a little sick so he changed his songs to reflect that, and he was confident in that answer.   
  
That is, up until he reached Ashe’s apartment, settled himself on her couch, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and was faced with Ashe’s concerned expression. He groaned and leaned back on the sofa, his legs spreading.    
  
“Jesse, what’s the matter with you?” She asked in a stern voice, catching Jesse’s immediate attention.    
  
“What do you mean?” He responded, though he immediately regretted it.   
  
“I’m not just some dumbass, you know. How long have I known you, then?” Ashe asked, and despite knowing the exact answer, McCree decided to deem that question rhetorical.    
“That’s what I thought. Now, I’m gonna ask you again.” Ashe leaned forward and rested an elbow on her knee.   
“What’s the matter?” McCree turned to face her and sighed through his teeth, looking down to the floor before responding.   
  
“I don’t know, Liz, I’m just… I’m worried, is all.” McCree finally responded, prompting Ashe to arch a brow. ‘Liz’ really wasn’t a common nickname for Jesse to use, and when he  _ did  _ use it, it was only in these raw moments when they were alone.    
  
“Worried?” She reverberated, only for McCree growl and throw his head back in frustration. Ashe could read that motion like it was a book, and she knew that McCree was hardly angry at  _ her _ and instead angry at himself.    
  
“Hanzo, I’m worried about Hanzo.” McCree spat in response.    
  
“Hanzo? You mean…” Ashe started, only to be cut off by McCree.   
  
“Genji’s florist brother, Hanzo. He runs that flower shop I took you to last week.” Ashe nodded in understanding before going silent. McCree continued. It was strange how Ashe was able to pull the facts from Jesse with so few words.   
“That was actually the last time I’ve seen him… That may seem kinda strange, but I’ve sort of been visitin’ him every few days for a while and, well, his shop’s been closed for  _ days _ .  _ Days _ ! Hanzo would never close up like that so out of the blue without anythin’ to say about it!” McCree pulled a swig from the bottle of whiskey he had in his hands, and Ashe couldn’t help but bring up her own questions in the middle of his ramblings. Considering she didn’t know Hanzo, it wasn’t too surprising to McCree.    
  
“And you think that because..?” Ashe started, once again getting cut off by the heavily accented words of her best friend.    
  
“Because I’ve been going to his shop consistently for a whole damn month! I’ve been talking to him three times a week for nearly five weeks and have been learnin’ his way! He’s an organized bastard, a stick up his ass bastard, an anal bastard…” McCree paused to drink some whiskey.   
“Anyway, I would believe him goin’ off and dyin’ before I believe him runnin’ off without a word or anybody to run his shop in the meantime. Ain’t none of them flowers been watered in days, Ashe, I can tell just by lookin’ at ‘em through the window.” Ashe hums and holds out her hand in an attempt to take the whiskey, prompting McCree to hand her the bottle. She pulls a small swig from it before setting it on the floor. She had enough trouble with Jesse at his best, she  _ definitely _ didn’t need him at his worst.    
  
“You’re worried that somethin’ happened to him? If he’s this organized guy like you’re sayin’, I would think he’d be fine, right?” Ashe asked in more of an attempt to get McCree’s cogs going than an actual question she had.    
  
“You saw ‘im that day I took you to Orchid Alive, didn’t you? What did he look like to you?” Ashe arched a brow and washed over her brain for any recollection.    
  
“Well, I didn’t ever really get a good look at him, but he looked kinda exhausted.” McCree leaned forward with Ashe’s retort.    
  
“ _ Exactly _ . What I just said is still plenty true, but would an anal bastard go to work lookin’ like the reaper himself? No, he wouldn’t somethin’ was goin’ on the night before, I’m willin’ to bet money on it. Not only that, but he was all sorts of distraught while we were there. Maybe you didn’t see it, but  _ I _ saw that damned look on his face… So sad. I just wish I’d  _ done _ somethin’...” Ashe took a deep breath as McCree said that. It was the first sign of real, genuine compassion she’d seen from that man in quite a while.    
  
“You don’t have  _ any _ way of reachin’ that man?” Ashe asked, only to get McCree shaking his head as a response. She furrowed her brows in an attempt to try to find a solution. There was really only one outlet she could think of, but she had a feeling she knew what the response would be.   
“And what about his brother? Genji, surely  _ he’d  _ know where that guy is out of anyone.” McCree shrugged and turned to Ashe.    
  
“Ain’t got a way to reach either of those brothers. No numbers or nothin’.” Ashe pursed her lips in response, knowing that was what McCree would say. She mulled over this predicament for a moment, considering whether or not this was worth making a solution to in the first place. Of course, Ashe realized how important this was to Jesse pretty instantly and was quick to shoot down the idea that it wasn’t worth it somehow.    
  
“I’ll tell ya what, Jesse.” She started, catching Jesse’s immediate attention.   
“I’m gonna be out on the town quite a bit tomorrow, hoppin’ between places n’ such. If I catch sight of either of them brothers, I’ll tell them to contact you, alright?” McCree gave Ashe a surprised look for a moment before a smile grew on his face. Perhaps it was a drunken smile, but Ashe loved seeing it nonetheless.    
  
“Thank you, Liz.” Ashe gave her own smile before that smile turned into a smirk and she hopped up off of her couch.    
  
“Now get outta here and get some sleep, ya crazy cowboy.” Jesse laughed alongside Ashe as she remarked, pulling himself off of her couch and making his way back to his own apartment for some sleep. It didn’t come to him immediately, but it did come eventually.    
  
The fifth time McCree went to Orchid Alive, he felt a little bit less hopelessness than he had felt the day before. Having Ashe on his side was really a valuable thing, and whether she found one of the Shimadas or not, he was overwhelmingly appreciative that she would even offer. Though seeing the empty store still brought an empty feeling to his chest, he felt like the emptiness was more temporary than ever. He truly felt like something would change soon, and as he prepared for his performances that night, he found his songs returning to their typical nature, if not a bit more lovesick than usual. His performances went rather well and he made a considerable amount of money playing them. He didn’t get any news from Ashe or any texts from the Shimadas that morning, which was admittedly pretty disappointing, but he went to sleep hoping that something would change.    
  
His hopes would prove to have merit, as just a few hours later on the very same day, a particular cowgirl recommended a particular performance at a particular bar to a particular sparrow.    
  
The sixth time McCree went to Orchid Alive, he felt nothing but hope and affection. He felt the urge to break through the door and water Hanzo’s flowers for him. He realized that he would sit there in that shop and keep his flowers alive for days, months,  _ years _ waiting for Hanzo, and that type of realization felt like an immortal force in his chest. He had a new revitalization to make his performance that night better than it had ever been before, and he even managed to write a completely new cover of I Won’t Back Down just for The High Noon Saloon’s performance.    
  
When McCree walked into The High Noon Saloon that Friday night with his guitar across his back, he could feel his heart beat in tune with his footsteps. Pure hope rang through him as he walked towards the stool sitting on the little wooden stage front and center in the bar, and as he threw his guitar over his shoulder and welcomed the patrons to the bar for the night, he could feel a weightlessness in his body. That weightlessness translated effortlessly in his music, especially in the finale song he had prepared mere hours before the show. His fingers glided across the textured strings of his guitar as his silky voice serenaded the whole bar. Money piled in his little tip jar to an overflowing degree, but he was hardly paying attention. All he cared about was the words in the song he was singing and the emotion he wanted to convey not only to the bar and to Hanzo wherever he was, but to  _ himself. _ He wanted to convince himself that he wouldn’t back down from himself, from Orchid Alive, from Hanzo, and when the performance was over and done with, Jesse  _ felt it _ . He felt his adoration and his affection for the florist pile up into something irreversible. Applause rang over the bar and Jesse gathered his things from the stage to walk the bar floor, mingling with a few patrons here and there before a voice nearby caught his attention.    
  
“Jesse!” A light voice called past the crowd. McCree snapped his head around to the sound and glared over the crowd, catching a flash of green amidst the western crowd. A shorter figure walked up to McCree and beamed up at him, waving their hand in front of his face and sending McCree practically into a different dimension with their presence.    
“Nice performance tonight.” They complimented, only for McCree to reach up and press his hand under the brim of his hat.    
  
“Genji… Thank you. Thanks for comin’, actually.” McCree sighed and Genji smiled, throwing McCree into every emotion he had felt over the past week all at once.    
  
_ Concern, Confusion, aggression, nerves, nausea, hope…  _ _  
_ _  
_ “Ashe told me to come. She said you wanted to talk to me, but I probably would have come to see your show anyway.” Genji laughed as he responded, bringing a small smile to McCree’s face before focusing back on what he was there for.   
“What can I help you with?” As Genji said that, McCree’s mind replayed what Hanzo had said during Jesse’s first visit to Orchid Alive…   
  
_ “What is it you’re looking for?”  _ _  
_ _  
_ McCree cleared his throat before responding, pulling his hat off the top of his head and wringing the brim between his hands.   
  
“I… I wanted to know if you’ve seen your brother recently.” Genji arched a brow up at McCree as he responded, a little smile still on his face.    
“His shop’s been closed since Sunday, and I’m… Well, I’m just a bit worried about him is all. Maybe you could talk to him for me?” Genji watched as McCree fidgeted as he responded, the smile on the sparrow’s face fading a bit at the sight. He had heard things from his brother about McCree the month before, little bursts of text messages where Hanzo would suddenly describe little quirks he had and what they had talked about that day. Genji knew that something was unfolding, but… He didn’t think it was  _ this  _ obvious.   
  
“Well… I haven’t talked to Hanzo this week, no.” Genji started, firstly surprising McCree with the answer and secondly disappointing him. Genji was quick to follow up at the sight.   
“ _ But _ , if what you say is true then it might be best to go check up on him. He seemed kind of sad last Sunday, so I could go over to his apartment and ask him what’s up.” Genji explained, looking up to McCree’s hopeful little smile and wearing one of his own.   
“Do you want to go with me?” McCree gave Genji a surprised look in response, but it only lasted a few moments before it was replaced with a determined smile.    
  
“Yeah, sure. You don’t think he’d mind?” McCree retorted, only to earn a smirk from Genji.    
  
“No. I think he’ll be flattered. We can head over there tomorrow morning if you give me your number.” McCree happily scribbled down his phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Genji, planning a time and place for them to meet up later that morning before parting ways. As McCree walked home, laid in bed, and even woke up a few hours later, he felt a sense of anxiety clutch at his chest. He felt a small trace of relief, and he knew that he was going to have to take Ashe on a shopping trip sometime soon to thank her, but he also knew that there was still a chance that Hanzo wasn’t even  _ at  _ his apartment. Of course, whether or not he was at his apartment or not, McCree had the valuable sources of both Ashe  _ and  _ Genji, so they’d be able to find him pretty damn quick, but the aftermath of finding him was what McCree was really afraid of. Any number of things could have happened for him to suddenly disappear from his shop, any number of people could have ticked him off… A certain cowboy could have plucked a wrong string on his chord and drew him away. That last option was so terrifying to him, he didn’t even want to entertain the thought, but it was a possibility.    
  
So, as McCree woke up at 8:00 that same morning and dressed himself to appear at Hanzo’s door, he mulled over the thought of what could have happened and what he would do to rectify the situation. As he walked out of his apartment complex on the way to the meeting place Genji had set, McCree found a little patch of wildflowers that caught his eye.    
  
Upon arriving at the meeting place, a little coffee shop between the blocks of Jesse’s apartment complex and Orchid Alive, Genji took immediate notice of the pitiful little ‘bouquet’ of wildflowers and weeds in the cowboy’s hands. He would have said something to save him from the embarrassment of providing such an array to a man of floristry, but he decided to bite his tongue in favor of the growing concern he had for his brother and what he assumed to be his brother’s cowboy boyfriend. Genji led McCree down the streets of L.A. for about thirty minutes before they found themselves climbing the stairs of a modest apartment complex and standing before a door on the second floor. McCree glanced between his, now horrid looking, arrangement of wildflowers and Genji, pointing to the door with a nervous expression.   
  
“This is..?” The cowboy started, looking over to find Genji nodding. McCree gulped at the sight and looked up at the door once more. A bead of sweat fell down his temple as anxiety flooded his chest, his hand rising closer to the wooden barrier between McCree and hopefully something other than empty apartment space.    
  
Jesse’s hand shook as he brought it up to the surface of the door, his knuckles wrapping against the wood in three rhythmic patterns.    
  
_ Knock _ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_ _ Knock _ _  
_ _  
_ __  
__ Knock   



	8. Revival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back this chapter is very late but it is here NOW and they are here uwu

_Knock_ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_ _Knock_ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_ _Knock_   
  
McCree’s hand fell down to his side and he shifted on his feet. He didn’t dare look over at Genji, more focused on getting over his nerves than anything else, but if he _were_ to look over at the sparrow, he would find a tense expression plastered on his face.  
  
Genji wasn’t quite as clueless as he would have McCree believe, it turned out.   
  
On that previous Wednesday, Genji _also_ noticed that Orchid Alive was closed and _also_ worried about Hanzo. Enough so, in fact, to visit him at his apartment that same day.  
  
When Genji arrived at Hanzo’s apartment, he used his key to walk in with only a small knock to warn his brother. The door swung open as Genji walked in, and he was quick to notice the familiar environment of his brother’s apartment. Hanzo’s apartment was always immaculate, perfectly organized and clean. He had a sofa in the main room, as well as a large flatscreen T.V. and shelf after shelf of movies he had collected over the years. Genji happened to have watched just about 90% of the movies on that shelf alongside his older brother, and some of the movie cases gave him a nice wave of nostalgia. As Genji stepped further into the main room, he found that certain things in the room had been moved and were replaced with pots of mini, bright red rose bushes. Genji approached the gorgeous plants and brushed his finger against a few of the petals, looking around the pots to find dirt and tools in their vicinity. Genji really wasn’t surprised that Hanzo was doing something with flowers, it _was_ sort of his haunt and all, but he was definitely surprised that the man was planting flowers at his own home.   
  
Hanzo adored floristry, and though he didn’t study it formally, he was quite the professional when it came to flowers, plants, trees, the works. In fact, he bought a shop just to express all of his love for flowers! Hanzo loved flowers to death, but he despised having a dirty home, and those two things clashed rather awfully. A flower shop was the perfect solution, of course, and after purchasing the flower shop, Hanzo never worried about dirt or water or anything around his apartment. Of course, that is, until he stopped _going_ to Orchid Alive.  
  
Just as Genji was observing one of the many beautiful rose bushes his brother had displayed in his home, the sound of a pot slamming down on the floor in another room rang throughout the whole apartment, making Genji wince in surprise. His attention snapped to the origin of the noise, a doorway leading to Hanzo’s bedroom laying in his sight. He was quick to hustle over to the doorway, eyes scanning the room for only a few seconds before landing on the back of his brother.   
  
“Hanzo?” Genji called to his brother, prompting the florist to turn on his heel and brush dirt from his hands.   
  
“Oh, hello Genji. I didn’t hear you come in.” Hanzo responded with just as much respect as he usually would when his brother would walk in, but his expression showed semblances of panic and surprise. Genji took a few steps into the bedroom and looked around, immediately noticing the rather immense influx of red flowers sitting on various counters and tabletops.   
  
“How’s it going, brother?” Genji asked absentmindedly as he approached a particular vase full of red roses. They looked fantastically tended to, drops of fresh water still laying on the lush petals.   
  
“I am doing well.” Hanzo responded tersely, continuing with the same tone. “What brings you here on such short notice?”   
  
Genji brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, looking away from his brother for a moment.   
  
“I noticed you didn’t go to work today.” Genji finally looked over at his brother as he spoke, taking a step forward as he continued. “I also noticed that the flowers are starting to wilt… Have you been going to work at all?”   
  
Hanzo started fidgeting with his hands in response, an action that was always a dead giveaway of his discomfort. Genji was even more concerned with the lack of his brother’s response, considering how uptight Hanzo usually was with his schedules and his work. He couldn’t fathom Hanzo _not_ going to work for more than a day or two.   
  
“What’s going on with you, Hanzo? What’s up with all these flowers, what’s up with not going to work, what’s up with _you_?!” Genji wore a terribly worried expression, his eyebrows knotting and his frown stressing the muscles in his cheeks. Hanzo rubbed his forearm in response at first, another nervous tic that he really only ever exhibited in the company of his brother. Genji was mischievous, yes, and perhaps even a bit careless, but he was wise and only spoke truth when giving advice to Hanzo. Hanzo knew that better than anyone, and it was this fact that broke him into speaking up.   
  
“It’s not a huge deal, brother. I just had a bad day last Friday.” Hanzo finally responded.   
  
“A bad day? Must’ve been some bad day for you to ditch work for three days.” Genji replied with his more typical sarcasm, drawing an eye roll from Hanzo.  
  
“Yeah. _Some_ bad day.” Hanzo spat back, turning around to tend to his flowers once more. Genji took this as the perfect moment to push further, taking a seat on Hanzo’s bed and observing that same vase of roses.   
  
“Did someone argue with you that day or something? Cranky customer?” Genji proposed only for Hanzo to sigh in response.   
  
“More like an irrational florist.” Hanzo spoke in a sad tone, his hand idling on a nearby countertop. Genji could tell he was getting close to the center of this outburst, and he was slightly suspicious that a certain cowboy Hanzo had been gushing about was that very center.   
  
“You? Irrational? It’s unheard of.” Genji snickered as he commented, earning a rag thrown at his face.   
  
“Oh shush for once. You were so curious about what I’m up to and now you just want to make fun of me!” Hanzo spat, prompting Genji to laugh and shake his head as he retorted.  
  
“I’m joking, I’m joking! Just trying to put a smile back on your face, bro.” Genji said with a smile, leaning back on Hanzo’s bed. Hanzo took a deep breath and started his rambling, his stoic voice quickly growing emotional as he went through that Friday again in his head. Genji would catch his brother looking over the red flowers in his room at the mention of someone’s name, and particularly in the climax of his rambling. It looked like he was resurfacing the memory, like he had buried it deep in the dirt and covered it with a red flower and was only digging it up at that moment. Genji found himself wanting to get up and comfort his brother, give him some kind of assurance that he had maybe misunderstood the situation somehow, but he knew that he would just be giving him possibly false hope. Genji really didn’t know _that person_ well, not past his few performances and when he hosted poker rounds anyway, so he really couldn’t discern whether or not what happened was truly a misunderstanding or not. There was a point in Hanzo’s story where he stood dead still in front of one of his many vases of roses, pulling a single stem from its clutches and staring it down.   
  
“Everything he’d said… Everything he’d _done_ , I just... “ Hanzo sighed, cutting himself off and holding the rose against his chest. Black locks fell around the red petals and a little scratch formed on the florist’s chest from one of the thorns of the pretty poisoned stem.   
“I fell for it. All of it.”  
  
Genji opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by the crunching of the roses petals in Hanzo’s hands. The sparrow closed his mouth and retreated, making way for Hanzo to throw the petals off to the side and furrow his brows.   
  
“I was foolish to do so.” Hanzo muttered, making Genji rise to his feet and take a stand.   
  
“No you weren’t. He made you happy.” Genji responded firmly, only for Hanzo to turn to face him and challenge him.  
  


“And look where that brief pleasure has brought me! He is an  _ addiction _ , cruel and tempting and painful after the peak!”    
  
“You’re not at the end of your journey with him, Hanzo! You truly think he would pull you through all of that just to throw you into the dirt?”   
  
“Who am I to say he wouldn’t? I don’t even  _ know  _ him!”    
  
“You’re lying!” Genji spat, only to point his finger at his brother and continue with a firm tone.    
“You’re lying in an attempt to protect yourself, but all you’re doing is hurting yourself! How do you know that the situation was the way you believe it was? How do you know whether or not  _ he’s _ wondering where you are right now? How do you-”   
  
“I  _ don’t _ !” Hanzo snapped back, throwing a harsh silence over the room in a matter of seconds. Genji took a step back and idled for his brother to continue, though it was only that action that motivated Hanzo to do so.    
“I don’t know… And what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Not here.” Hanzo sighed and his shoulders dropped. Genji shook his head.   
  
“You’re wrong.” Genji spoke, idling for a response that wouldn’t come. “You’re wrong about everything.” He hoped that Hanzo would have something to say to that, but he didn’t. He simply kept his back faced to Genji and gave him nothing. Genji felt a memory resurface, a particular instance in their past that looked nearly verbatim to their stances then. Genji tried to shake the thought, the horrible resurfacing of  _ that _ falling out, and came to a new solution, somehow less drastic than the one he chose all those years ago.   
  
“I’m going to prove you wrong, brother.” Genji turned and began to walk out of his brother’s apartment after saying that, gently closing the door behind him and stalking off to Orchid Alive one more time. He was on a mission to find the truth, to find salvation for his brother, and to find  _ him _ .    
  
  
That he did and there he stood, the very same McCree just a mere few feet away from him in front of Hanzo’s door with nothing but pregnant silence laying between them. Jesse was clearly nervous, the frankly pitiful arrangement of weeds in his hands beginning to wilt.    
  
Whole minutes of silence passed, tension growing monstrously in that time. McCree thought about bringing his hand up again, but the sound of footsteps accompanied by a muffled voice kept him from doing so. The voice grew louder and louder with every footstep, a voice that froze Jesse’s heart in his ribcage at the very sound. Even from behind a door it sounded firm and attention-grabbing.    
  
“Mrs. Oxton, please, I’m alright, you don’t have to keep checking up on me…” The doorknob twisted in front of Jesse, snapping the door away from the cowboy to reveal a tired man. A man with his hair drowning his shoulders and a stone cold glare. A man that looked up to meet eyes with McCree and immediately felt his heart stop.    
  
Jesse and Hanzo stood still before each other, sparks practically radiating from both of them. After a few minutes of mutual silence, Jesse shook his head a bit and gave Hanzo an awkward smirk. Hanzo felt a surge in his body, one that threw chills across his skin and made his fingers twitch…    
  
“Howdy…” Jesse started.   
  
“Hello…” Hanzo responded in a stoic tone, a serious expression on his face. It was slightly intimidating, which McCree completely expected from the florist upon their first few meetings, but there was something rather jarring about seeing it in action at that moment. Was that really how he looked a month before? He offered the weeds in his hand and wore a wolfish smile, leaning his head up to get a good glance at the florist. Hanzo glanced down at the wildflowers, that of which had faded in color slightly and were drooping. They really weren’t on par with the typical flowers Hanzo would see, but he supposed that if the shop Jesse frequented for that kind of thing was closed then he was doing his best. Hanzo crossed his arms across his chest and looked away to find Genji off to the side. He had to keep from scowling at his brother now that he was faced with  _ him _ .    
“How can I help you?” Hanzo asked in the same tone, looking up to meet Jesse’s slightly dejected eyes. After a moment of looking sad, Jesse chuckled lightly in response.    
  
“You cut right to the chase… huh?” Jesse spoke with a pause, anticipating some sort of response from the florist but receiving none. He continued, brushing his hand over the wilting petals of the wildflowers in his hands with a sad smile.    
“I just… I just wanted to see how you were doin’. Haven’t seen you in the shop in a while is all, and I got a bit worried.”    
  
Hanzo narrowed his eyes and peaked out of the doorway, eyes scanning the hallway for a certain figure. There was no one other than his own brother to Hanzo’s surprise. He looked back up to Jesse and he could hear a voice warning him in his head. ‘Do not invite him in, do not invite him in, do  _ not _ invite him in!’   
  
“Would you like to come in?” Hanzo asked with a softened tone, taking a step back and leaving some room in the doorway. Jesse smiled and walked in with a nod, Genji following close behind and catching Hanzo’s glare on his way in.    
  
When McCree walked through the doorway, he found himself in the middle of what appeared to be a living room, and an immaculately clean one at that. The design of the room was very minimalist, a single couch laying in the middle of the room with tables on either side and a large flatscreen T.V. sitting on a counter in front of the couch. There was also a wall lined with shelves nearly bursting with DVDs, and Jesse felt a twinge of jealousy at the collection. He swore that he spotted a few westerns in there, and it made him smile. When looking around the other parts of the room, Jesse’s eyes landed on a couple little pots of mini rose bushes. He was immediately attracted to them, walking over and admiring them with a sweet smile. It was only when he saw those flowers that he realized just how poor his own arrangement looked, and when Hanzo spoke up behind him, he felt the need to hide the weeds behind his back.    
  
Hanzo took a seat on his couch, folding his hands on his lap and looking up at McCree. Though his glare had softened from the doorway, there was still hesitance and suspicion in his look. He had quite a few questions to ask the cowboy, but there was one raging question that needed answering before anything else. The florist looked down at his lap and arched a brow slightly.    
  
“Where is your partner today?” Hanzo asked calmly, looking back up to catch McCree’s confused expression.    
  
“Partner?” McCree reverberated with an arched brow, tilting his head. Hanzo returned the confused expression and followed up.   
  
“The lady you accompanied last Friday? Your significant other?” Jesse paused for a minute before laughing under his breath. Hanzo felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart beat along with Jesse’s growing laughter. He looked back to Genji to find a similarly confused expression on his face. Jesse shook his head and walked over to the very same couch Hanzo was sitting on, landing himself beside the florist and leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs. The weeds left little petals on the floor with his movements, and Hanzo tried to keep his eyes on those petals to distract himself from the way Jesse’s knee barely brushed against his.    
  
“Ashe ain’t my girlfriend. She’s just my best friend.” Hanzo’s attention snapped up to Jesse’s eyes as he said that.    
  
“She isn’t?” Genji and Hanzo responded at the same time, throwing an amused expression on Jesse’s face. He snickered and shook his head.    
  
“No, she’s not. Why would you think that?” Hanzo sat in silence for a few seconds.  _   
_ _   
_ _ Ashe ain’t my girlfriend. _   
  
“So… You’re not dating Ashe?” Hanzo asked again just to be sure what he was hearing was right. Jesse smirked and shook his head again.    
  
“I’m not datin’ anybody, darlin’.” Hanzo felt his heart start to race with that retort, the corner of his mouth curling up.    
  
Genji was wearing his typical mischievous smile when Hanzo looked back at him. Amidst Hanzo’s eye rolling, Jesse landed a hand on the florist’s shoulders and immediately had his attention. Hanzo melted into the contact and suddenly any recollection of the last friday, or even the last  _ week _ without Jesse, faded into nothingness.    
  
“And you worried about that because…?” Jesse drawled, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a wolfish smirk. Hanzo gulped, hardly prepared to even hint at the answer to that question before Genji so mercilessly cut in to save him.    
  
“Welp.” The sparrow started. “I think I’m gonna go see what Hana’s up to.”    
  
“What?!” Hanzo pulled himself off the couch and Jesse followed him up, pulling his hand away and letting it idle at his side as he watched the brothers’ exchange.    
“You’re going to leave me here?” Hanzo called out desperately as his brother started walking out, drawing a shrug from Genji.   
  
“It’s your apartment, bro.” Genji responded, prompting Hanzo to approach the door and being completely cut off by the door slamming in his face. Genji ran off down the hall, Hanzo could hear his footsteps, and there was no catching up with him then. Hanzo held his hands on the doorknob and kept facing the door, a bit nervous to turn around and face the man in his very own apartment. Maybe if he just didn’t turn around he would just disappear!    
  
“So  _ that’s  _ what this is all about, darlin’?”    
  
Damn it.


	9. Tending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see!! (sorry for the late response :''' thanks for sticking around!)

“ _ So  _ that’s  _ what this is all about?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ Hanzo pulled his hand away from the doorknob of his apartment’s front door and flexed his fingers in an attempt to brace himself for whatever was about to come at him. The florist sighed as he turned on his heel, his hands coming together against his torso for his fingers to intertwine. Jesse looked upon the nervous state of Hanzo with a little smile. He was trying desperately to hold back a giddy smile in the face of the truth he had found, and the hope that he had been holstering ever since he met Hanzo started to rise and fester below his throat. If he was smart, he would keep his hopes on the low just in case things didn’t turn out the way he thought they would, but Jesse wasn’t super smart in the ‘emotional vulnerability’ area, truth be told.    
  
When Hanzo turned around, he found Jesse standing just a few feet away from him wearing that same outfit he had worn on his second time at Orchid Alive. The red flannel did look rather nice on him, Hanzo thought before looking up to the cowboy’s face and feeling both warmth and anxiety flow through him. His stomach began to flip, both from the thought of explaining this whole situation to the person at the center of all of it and from the fact that  _ he  _ was standing in  _ Hanzo’s  _ living room.    
  
“That’s not...” Hanzo started with an embarrassed look on his face, drawing Jesse a step closer and cutting him off in the process.   
  
“Don’t tell me Ashe was what made you so upset last Friday?” Jesse poked, only for Hanzo to cross his arms and purse his lips.    
  
“It wasn’t Ashe, I’m sure she is a lovely woman.” Hanzo retorted confidently.   
  
“If not Ashe, then it had to be me.” Jesse said back with the same confidence Hanzo had, knocking down the florist’s argument immediately. Hanzo stalked off past Jesse, accidentally brushing his arm on his way through the living room and catching his breath in his throat. Hanzo stood beside a mini rose bush sitting on a little table and faced away from Jesse in an attempt to clear his head. The only way he would have been able to explain everything would be by not having Jesse in his line of sight, after all.    
  
“It was me, it was all me. I started  _ this _ and I tried to end it.” Hanzo held his arms as he spoke and he could hear Jesse take a step behind him. His heart hopped in suit.    
  
“All this talk of  _ this  _ and  _ that _ , why can’t we just lay it all out, Hanzo? The whole reason I came was to fix… Whatever’s goin’ on with you. If it was because of somethin’ I did, then I need to take responsibility.” Jesse took another step as he spoke and Hanzo could feel it travel through the floor up into his chest.    
  
“It wasn’t what you did that sparked all this trouble, it was how I reacted to it. How I so irrationally lost myself to your presence.” Jesse stopped and stared at the back of Hanzo’s head, the black strands that fell so gracefully over his shoulder blades as he spoke. There was a pause, but Hanzo was quick to fill it again with his more emotional rambling.    
“You showed up once and I thought that would be the end of it, but you just kept coming back day after day, you kept telling stories and making idle chatter with me and I thought, I  _ hoped  _ that you wouldn’t come back the next time, but you just wouldn’t leave me.” Jesse’s shoulders dropped as Hanzo spoke, his heart near splitting with every word that fell from his mouth. The cowboy took a step back, unable to hold back a heart-wrenching frown. He was glad that Hanzo wasn’t looking at him or he might have just broken right down into heartbreak right there.   
“You just wouldn’t leave…” Jesse braced for more fire as Hanzo started up again, clenching his fists and wincing…   
“And I fell. I fell so  _ badly _ for you.” Hanzo turned a bit, his shoulder facing Jesse and his eyes still locked anywhere other than the cowboy, but Jesse could see every ounce of color in the florist’s cheeks and affection in his eyes. The frown dissipated and left nothing but hope.    
  
“Fell?” Jesse reverberated, taking back that previous step only for Hanzo waver where he stood. The florist stayed silent and ran through his words a million times in his head.    
  
Was he ready to say it? Say what he had been saying over and over in his head? Say what he realized that night of the performance?    
  
“Hanzo?” Jesse’s voice was gentle and caring, and though Hanzo had known deep down what he felt… He didn’t want to admit it.    
  
“I fell for your  _ company _ .” Hanzo settled with, bringing a confused expression to Jesse’s face.   
“I spend a lot of time by myself in that little shop, even when there’s customers I don’t find myself in true conversation with anyone. That is of my own fault for not approaching anything of the sort, of course, but it was still jarring to have someone come in so regularly and strike up such casual conversation. You were like... “ Hanzo took a deep breath and pushed down the already festering regret in his throat.   
“You were like my first  _ friend  _ after my brother.” Jesse winced in the very slightest with that last statement. It didn’t make much sense, he thought, that someone would close their shop just because a work friend came in with a lady that they thought was their girlfriend. After taking a moment to cope with his new label of ‘friend’, Jesse shook his head and gave Hanzo a skeptical look.    
  
“What’s that gotta do with Ashe?” Jesse asked with a slightly disappointed tone.    
  
“Well, I don’t know, you came to the shop so regularly that I thought maybe I was pulling a lot of time away from what I  _ thought  _ was your spouse or significant other.” Hanzo started spouting with a defensive tint to his voice, now taking a strong stand with the wall he had just built between himself and the cowboy. After coming so close to breaking everything down and being completely open just to have his boundaries build themselves all back up again… that wasn’t something he was just going to back off of, being as stubborn as he was.    
  
Jesse took a step back for once, the swelling of his heart subsiding and fading out of existence as Hanzo spoke. That warm feeling in his chest quickly turned into more of a sickness, a pang in his stomach that brought a wince to his face. It was a horrid feeling past the rose tinted glasses that were glued to his face, and he thought there wasn’t anything that could top it. He had been scratched, bitten, shot, booed offstage, kicked, fired, evicted… Even past all that, this ill feeling… There was nothing worse. Nothing worse, he thought, until he remembered that past week.    
  
No Hanzo. No Orchid Alive. Not even a phone call.    
  
Jesse took an impulsive step forward, just close enough to be within Hanzo’s reach and close enough to gently lay a hand on his shoulder. The florist jumped a bit, but just a bit.    
  
“Hanzo…” Jesse started, pausing for a few seconds to search around on his clothes only to pull out a rinky dink little smartphone. Once he had the metal brick in his hand, he focused back on Hanzo and wore a little smile. It was hardly a light bulb compared to the sunshine that his regular smile was, but it was certainly worth something to Hanzo.    
“You’re one of my friends too.”    
  
Hanzo glanced up and arched a brow at the cowboy, the contact on his shoulder bringing some immediate ease to him shown in the way his shoulders lowered and the furrowing of his eyebrows softened. Hanzo had such complex expressions and McCree had memorized just about 80% of all those workings of his emotions into his face, that movement of his eyebrows was certainly one of those workings.   
  
“So, as my friend…” Jesse started once more, opening his phone and pulling up the rather lengthy contact list that laid within it.   
“Could I get your number?” Jesse paused before speaking again, taking in Hanzo’s expression before shrugging and wearing a sheepish smirk.    
“Y-You know, just in case you go runnin’ off for another week without any notice.”    
  
Hanzo laughed under his breath, taking Jesse’s phone in his hand and typing something into the contact list presented. The florist didn’t talk as he typed, and at first McCree figured he was focused on getting his number in his phone, but the little smirk on Hanzo’s face and the occasional chuckle below his throat said otherwise.    
“Now  _ what  _ is so funny?” Jesse drawled, prompting Hanzo to glance over at the cowboy and wave his phone around a bit.   
  
“Your phone is just  _ ancient _ , McCree.” Hanzo retorted with a sneer, prompting Jesse to scoff and throw his hands on his hips dramatically.    
  
“So what is your phone, then? I bet it’s not much better than mine!” McCree snapped back with a sneer, watching as Hanzo rested his hand on his back pocket and yanked out a phone nearly three times the size of McCree’s. Hanzo’s phone didn’t even have a little keyboard on it… 

McCree sighed in response as he admitted his defeat, nodding and shoving his hands in his pockets.    
“I stand corrected.”    
  
“And don’t worry.” Hanzo stepped in, bringing something of a confused expression to McCree’s face as he took his phone back.    
“I don’t plan on disappearing again any time soon. Someone has to take care of all those flowers, after all.” Hanzo finished, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking a few strands of hair out of his face. McCree smiled in response, leaning to one side as the tone between them seemed to return to normal.    
  
“Those flowers are dyin’ without you, darlin’. Literally.” McCree drawled, knowing full well that he was lumping himself in with those flowers. Hanzo sighed a bit in response, a saddened look on his face for a moment.    
  
“I’m sure they are… I’ll have to show up extra early tomorrow to tend to them.”   
  
“Then I’ll be there extra early to keep you company.” McCree was quick to throw back, bringing a little smile to Hanzo’s face. The expression threw McCree into a rut of affection, evident by the dumb smirk on his face. All he wanted was to put that smile on Hanzo’s face again, and if that meant befriending him and helping him water rows and rows of flowers, then by god he was going to be the best flower-watering friend the world had ever seen. He considered asking Hanzo about meeting somewhere for dinner or something, even opening his mouth to do so before the sound of a cliche whistling sound from westerns played through the room. Hanzo arched a brow and looked down at the phone resting in McCree’s hand, bringing the cowboy’s attention down as well. It was an alarm, the title saying something along the lines of ‘go to sleep’.    
  
He had set this alarm rather early in the day at a time where going to sleep wouldn’t usually be considered typical because he knew he was going to be getting up earlier than usual that day. His job required him to be up from late in the evening to early in the morning, so he tried his best to get in as much sleep as he could in the day before his shows, and he had a show to do later that night. As much as he would have liked to propose a dinner between friends right there and then, inviting the man to his show would have to do instead.    
  
“I’ve got to get on home and rest up for my show tonight.” McCree started, swiping away the alarm and letting his hand rest at his side. Hanzo perked up and tilted his head, dark hair swishing over in suit.    
  
“A show? Where? I’d love to see you perform again.” Hanzo replied enthusiastically, or what McCree considered to be enthusiastic when it came to his tone of voice. The cowboy brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck as he responded.    
  
“Ah, just a little ol’ bar uptown, I’ll text you the address when I get up.” Jesse shrugged as he spoke, turning to walk out the apartment door before Hanzo called out to him.    
  
“Ah, well, actually… Would you mind giving me a ride there, instead?” Hanzo called, catching McCree’s attention just as his hand was on the handle of the apartment door. He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk and an arched brow.   
  
“You want  _ me  _ to give you a ride? Do you know what I drive?” Hanzo gave the cowboy a confused look as he spoke.    
  
“I could only assume a character like you has a large, red pickup truck.” Hanzo wore a little smile, making McCree laugh and shake his head before finally opening the door to Hanzo’s apartment.    
  
“You know what? Sure, I’ll give you a ride. I gotta get over to the bar by 11:00 tonight, so be ready by then, alright?”    
  
“Sounds like a plan.” Hanzo retorted confidently despite the slight confusion still plaguing him. The mischievous look on McCree’s face as he walked out of the apartment was enough to make suspicion rise in Hanzo’s brain. A face like that on a man like McCree was never a good thing… Even if it did look great on him.    
  
As Jesse walked out of Hanzo’s apartment and made his way through the hallways of his complex, he checked his phone. The screen was still open on his contact list, and the name that was listed there brought a dumb smile to his face once again.    
  
🌼 _ Hanzo _ 🌼    
  
It was enough to keep that smile on his face even as he laid down for a nap that same day.    
  
Hanzo, on the other hand, spent most of his day tending to roses up until 9:00 came around. When it came close to the time for McCree to pick him up, or what he considered to be close, he decided to focus his attention on his wardrobe. What his brother had said the last time he went to one of Jesse’s performances stuck with him, the whole comment about looking like he was going to dinner with the president. Perhaps he  _ was  _ a bit too formal for the event. So, with that in mind, he spent a good hour and a half picking out a more suitable outfit, including a simple, black, long-sleeved shirt, a pair of dark-wash blue jeans, and a pair of boots. He also made the effort to tie his hair up with a little blue ribbon, the first time he had done so since he abandoned his workplace. It felt nice to have his hair out of his face, and as he was going over his appearance in one of the mirrors in his apartments, he felt like he didn’t look half bad. Maybe Genji had some fashion knowledge sometimes.   
  
Sometimes.    
  
The night went very well after that point. Well, it went well after the actual ride to the bar, anyway. Hanzo was previously unaware that McCree’s main form of travel was by motorcycle, so that was certainly an experience, but other than that the night went well, as did the next week of nights. Hanzo ended up going back to Orchid Alive the next day after Jesse’s performance and continued to run the flower shop just as well as he had been doing. It was like he had never left after all the flowers recovered from their dehydration, and soon things were back to normal. The only thing that changed was Jesse’s visits to Orchid Alive.    
  
They became way more frequent and way longer, though Hanzo wasn’t about to complain. It was sort of like Jesse worked there, as even some of the customers approached him for help in the store. The cowboy tried his best to answer their questions with his lacking flower knowledge, and while Hanzo always had to butt in at some point or another to fix everything, it was always amusing for a while. Moments like that happened all the time for Hanzo, and he was content. He hoped that things could stay like that forever, that Jesse could stick around his shop for a while every day and invite him to all of his shows after everything was said and done in the shop.    
  
Unfortunately, his wish didn’t come true…   
  
_ but not in the way you would think. _


	10. Preening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii everyone!! Woo its been a long long time since I've updated this, but im back baybee and im ready to keep writing for this! Thank you for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy this next arc im setting up :)

_ “ _ _ If you could go back in time, when and where would you go?”  _ _  
_ _  
_ Jesse had been bringing up hypothetical scenarios to Hanzo for the better half of an hour, booting up strange conversations that Hanzo found pointless the first few times until he realized how fun it could be. Maybe it was just because Jesse in particular was a funny man and could give interesting responses to things like that, maybe Hanzo was just partial to Jesse as good company, whatever it was it entertained Hanzo through a slow day, and that was all he needed.    
  
“Hmm… I think I would travel to about an hour ago.” Hanzo finally responded after some feigned thinking, bringing a little smirk to Jesse’s face as he leaned over the counter.    
  
“To see me again?” Jesse asked with confidence, prompting Hanzo to shake his head.    
  
“No. An hour ago I could have stopped you before you brought up these silly questions.” Hanzo snapped back, sending Jesse into a minor laughing fit before he settled down to think about the question. The cowboy rested his chin on his hand, his elbow propping his head up off of the registering counter.    
  
“I think I would travel back to the western days. Back when you could shoot your initials into a wall and ride off into the sunset on your horse. It would-” Jesse stopped as laughing cut him off, a surge of electricity going through his veins at the sound. He could recognize it from miles away, the sound of Hanzo’s laugh. It was a rare little thing but every time he heard it, an unstoppable smile would spread across his face.    
“And just what is so funny, then?”    
  
“You’re so predictable. It’s like you’ve come straight out of an old western movie.” Jesse laughed a bit to himself before leaning over the counter again, looking slightly up at the florist.   
  
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” The cowboy drawled, winking up at Hanzo up until the bell above the shop’s door rang out. His attention immediately snapped over to the door and his posture straightened out.    
“Welcome to Orchid Alive!” The cowboy announced, stealing the words from Hanzo’s mouth. This had become a routine of sorts, McCree acting like he worked at the flower shop that is. He hung around the shop long enough each day to be considered an employee, despite not being paid or even having a semblance of knowledge on flowers. His competence as a florist wasn’t what made him useful in the shop, it was more his enthusiasm to help out in little ways. For example, every time McCree came into the shop, he would sweep up the floor and give the windows at the front of the shop a wipe-down. He used to wipe down all the windows in the shop, but after realizing how pointless it was thanks to the lackluster design of the building, he shortened it to the front-most window.    
In return for this unpaid work in the shop, Hanzo had his own sort of employee-esque dynamic with McCree. When Jesse would go out to his bar performances, Hanzo would usually accompany him and help him with little things like holding his guitar or getting him a drink. He would attend these performances just to attend them in the first place, so doing menial tasks like that were really no trouble to the florist. Not to mention that Jesse was rather humble, as in he didn’t really like asking for a whole lot. Maybe it was just because Hanzo was his friend, that still felt strange to say, and he felt bad for making him run around for him. Maybe it was just because he didn’t  _ need  _ a lot of things to be content. Whatever it was, it often left Hanzo in a weird spot considering just how much McCree did around the shop and how little he often did during the cowboy’s performances.    
  
After Jesse greeted the new customer, Hanzo looked up. A tall woman with short, pink hair stood somewhat in the middle of the shop, looking around stoically at the flowers with her arms crossed. Hanzo retorted to his equally stoic appearance, but Jesse looked just as enthusiastic to greet someone as he usually did.    
“How can we help you today?” Jesse called out again, taking a few steps towards the customer. She looked around the color-coordinated catalogue of flowers for a moment before placing her hands on her hips and looking down at Jesse with a critical eye. 

“I want to purchase flowers for my girlfriend. It is our two year anniversary.” Anniversaries. Hanzo had come across this a million times, but by this point so had Jesse. Hanzo idled behind the register and waited to see what the cowboy would do, a contemplative look on his face. 

“How nice! What’s she like?” Hanzo arched a brow as Jesse said that, but the woman was quick to start describing her little scientist girlfriend to him. She didn’t seem like the type to suddenly drop a bunch of information about someone, but maybe Jesse just had that effect on people. What he lacked in expertise in flowers, he apparently made up for in charisma and understanding of emotion. 

After a bit of chatter between the cowboy and the customer, Jesse approached Hanzo with his thoughts.   
  
“Alright, I’m thinking somethin’ like those pretty blue ones over there.” Jesse leaned in close to Hanzo with a whispering tone, pointing over at the light blue section of Hanzo’s shop at what he presumed to be the cosmos. Hanzo gave a little hum and smile, visibly impressed in Jesse’s choice and making the cowboy puff up with pride.    
  
“I think you’re onto something with that.” Hanzo began whispering in return. “Cosmos are actually the recommended flower to give for second anniversaries, funnily enough. I think the color is a good choice as well, very nice.” Jesse only continued to preen like a cat in the sun as Hanzo praised his decision, standing up straight with an absolutely sickeningly proud smile.   
  
“Looks like I may have a hidden talent for this flower business after all.” Jesse commented before directing the customer over to the cosmos he had picked out. The cowboy relayed everything Hanzo had told him with conviction, as if he had already known everything about cosmos. Hanzo rolled his eyes affectionately at the sight. 

In that moment of silence, when his friend was dealing with a customer in his shop having left him behind at the register, Hanzo began to take in his surroundings. It had been nearly a month since the conversation that they had in Hanzo’s apartment, and everything that was going on after that suddenly felt so… Normal. It felt so normal for Jesse to be catering to one of his customers, for him to walk around sweeping up the tile in his shop or for him to casually walk up to the register, lean his arm on the counter, and say something charming. It became routine, comfortable. That comfortability, it was absolutely dream-like… 

But it was also something of a curse.   
  
Hanzo and McCree were seemingly back to square one with their relationship. They were past occasional visits and questions about whether they were in a relationship at all or not, but they weren’t past that wall of vines and thorns that kept them from making contact or actively saying anything about a relationship past friendship. What Hanzo had at the time was good, it was something that he could relish to its own degree, but it… it wasn’t enough.   
  
Every time Jesse would come over to the register in the morning and give his usual ‘Good morning, darlin’’, or every time he walked over to whisper his thoughts about a customer in his ear, he felt the incredible urge to make contact. He wanted to brush his hand by Jesse’s, maybe give him a playful nudge, maybe even give him a little peck on the cheek… But he never acted on those urges. He had complete control over himself at all times, a trait that he had come to take pride in after so many years and one that he was very glad that he had at times like that, times when he was thinking what it would be like if Jesse walked over one day and hugged him. It was a strange thing to wonder, it would probably be like any other hug, but something about the thought of McCree embracing him, his body heat completely trapping Hanzo…    
  
“Darlin’?” A southern accent called out from across the store, pulling Hanzo out from his own head. The cowboy was holding about a dozen blue cosmos and started walking across the store with them, that same proud smile from before on his face.    
“Can you ring me up for these? I’ll wrap ‘em this time.” Hanzo nodded and started typing numbers into the cash register laying on the counter, moving over a little bit so Jesse could come behind the counter and wrap up the bouquet. The customer looked mildly satisfied, as satisfied as someone so stoic could appear anyway, and that made Hanzo unusually proud. Proud of Jesse, that is, and even as the cowboy sat and wrapped the beautiful blue flowers in a white paper and blue bow, Hanzo felt that pride swell. That was something that he taught the man how to do, and now he was doing it pretty damn well. 

After having made the transaction with the customer, Hanzo sent her on her way, satisfied with her purchase. Silence fell over the store and Hanzo looked back over to his friend. 

“You’re really getting the hang of this.” The florist spoke, catching McCree’s attention. 

“You think so?” He drawled in return, drawing a nod from Hanzo. 

Hanzo didn’t even have to look over to know that the cowboy was beaming with pride, he could feel it in the air, and he was right! Getting a compliment from Hanzo felt like being praised by god himself. To McCree, anyway. He took this praise in high regard, partially because of the rarity of the praise and partially because of how much respect and admiration he had for the one giving the praise. He often felt a need to impress Hanzo in some way, to make him look over and notice how well he was doing at something. He didn’t need the validation or anything, but there was something about the electric feeling in his fingertips that drew him to that praise over and over again. Something about how Hanzo would watch him when he was cleaning up the shop with a little smile. Not to mention that he just enjoyed helping the florist out. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in the shop or anything, it wasn’t like Hanzo was in over his head with his business, but there were always little things that Jesse could do to lift even a little bit off of the man’s shoulders. Hanzo was a smart man, he built his business in direct relation to what he could accomplish without much effort in order to make the business as pleasant to work at as possible. 

“Anythin’ else left to do?” Jesse asked the empty shop, looking for more of that positive attention. Hanzo laughed in hums to himself, drawing the cowboy’s attention. 

“You know, you don’t have to do so much around the shop. You act like you work here. Shall I start paying you?” Hanzo spoke, tilting his head slightly up at his counterpart. Jesse loved it when he did that, it always somehow gave his words more emotion. Where his facial expressions lacked in inclination, his little motions and habits made up for it. 

“Nah, no need to pay me. I’m just helpin’ out where I can. Isn’t that what friends do?” Jesse, on the other hand, was very expressive in both his expressions and his gestures. He often spoke with his body, moving his hands or his shoulders when speaking to emphasize certain parts and staying still to lessen others. His face would default to a smile when speaking casually, but his face had many different portions that would change in the slightest ways, and Hanzo picked up on every single one of those movements. He wasn’t great at  _ reading  _ the motions, per say, but he could see them. 

“I suppose… I just can’t help but feel that I have no way of repaying you for your kindness.” 

“Well you help me out at my shows, dont’cha?” Jesse arched a brow and Hanzo rolled his eyes with a smile. Eyerolls were a tricky little thing most of the time, but McCree had come to realize that with Hanzo, a large majority of those eyerolls were affectionate or playful. He hardly ever expressed outright disrespect like that, if he ever had a grievance, which he sometimes did, he would simply tell him. That was another great thing about Hanzo, he was usually very honest. Disregarding the whole ‘lying about my emotions toward you’ thing, of course, but that was more based on his own emotional incompetence than malicious lies. 

“It’s not the same.” The florist replied, his arms crossing over his chest. He was wearing an apron that day because he was moving some stock and didn't want to get anything on his clothes, and McCree took notice. The apron fit him well and complimented his structure. Not to say that Jesse was admiring Hanzo’s structure or anything like that, that would be weird. Jesse scoffed at that response and smiled in a bit of bewilderment, a habit that Hanzo was always amused with. 

“How is it not the same?” 

“Well, you do more around the shop than I do for you at your shows! All I do is bring you drinks occasionally.” Hanzo looked off with a playfully annoyed look on his face, looking back to McCree and instantly dropping the face. The cowboy had a strangely tender smile on his face, one that Hanzo had only seen a select number of times. Hanzo arched a brow at the sight, drawing a small sigh from his counterpart.    
  
“That ain’t all you do, darlin’. You show up and you watch my show. You enjoy my music. That’s worth a lot more to me than a little drink from the bar.” There were very few times that McCree had a truly genuine tenderness to his words. Of course, he meant everything he said and said everything he meant, but when it came down to saying something truly important, he would take on a very specific tone. The same tone he had taken when saying that. Hanzo looked up at Jesse with a slight hint of awe, slight hint of respect, and a rather large hint of admiration. A little smile dressed Hanzo’s face, softening all his features and giving him little lines beside his eyes that always made Jesse feel warm. 

“I do enjoy your music quite a lot.” Hanzo admitted, looking off. It was true, McCree had a very special place in Hanzo’s music-loving heart. He had such a silky smooth voice when he wanted and a deliciously gruff voice as well. He could adapt to any song within his range and use his voice to atone to the tone of the song. He had a talent of bringing people into the  _ feeling  _ of what he was singing rather than the sound, using his expressiveness to his distinct advantage. It was no wonder he could actually make a living doing that kind of thing, he was damn good at it. 

“I’m glad.” Jesse started, drawing Hanzo’s curiosity. He had said it in a way as if Hanzo were missing something, and if that was a ploy to grant Hanzo’s further interest in the topic, then it worked like a charm. A silence passed, and Jesse wore a little smirk as he continued his thought. Another moment where Hanzo felt the urge to roll his eyes.    
“You’ve actually only heard a fraction of the stuff I do. I only sing covers in those bars after all.” 

Now  _ that  _ piqued Hanzo’s interest. 

“What do you mean?” The florist asked further.

“I make my own music!” The cowboy exclaimed with a proud smile, promptly deflating and retreating into a more humble attitude. 

“I don’t play my songs anywhere or anythin’ but I do make them.” 

“Well, why not?” Hanzo asked immediately, suddenly incredibly interested in what the man himself would create.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just tryin’ to perfect my music before I release it. It’s not ready yet. Missin’ somethin’.” Hanzo took a moment to avoid being amused by the two ‘ing’-ending words right next to each other in order to focus on what Jesse had said. He couldn’t rightly convince the man to release his personal music just so Hanzo could hear it, of course… 

But maybe… 

Maybe he didn’t have to release the music publicly. 

“Well, I’d love to hear your music sometime. Perhaps… Perhaps I could come over one of these days and you could play for me.” Hanzo grew quiet and nervous as he continued, something McCree immediately noticed. “If you wanted to, that is.” 

McCree looked down at Hanzo with a dumb smile on his face. Hanzo was asking to come over. Not only to come over, but to come over so he could hear McCree’s original songs! Part of him was absolutely bursting at the seams with excitement for the event, so excited to show Hanzo what he had been working on for years and years, but the other part of him was horrified. There was no way that his songs were ready for the public, and if they weren’t ready for the public, then they  _ definitely  _ weren’t ready for Hanzo. He had to impress the florist with his music, he wanted to desperately. He tried to formulate a way that he could do that as they stood there in silence, and something came to him. Hanzo had been standing quietly, looking away from Jesse as he partially expected him to say no.   
  
“Sure, you can come over!” He had a plan. A plan that needed time, though, so he quickly came up with a date for him to come over on the fly.    
“How about you come over… next Saturday?” It was Friday then, that gave him seven days to work. Hanzo smiled and brightened a bit, agreeing to the date as he started closing up the shop. 

Now it was sealed, Hanzo was going to be going to McCree’s house that next Saturday and he needed to have something really great to show the florist. As Jesse walked back to his apartment that night at closing, (the high noon saloon was closed that night for some remodeling, so he didn’t have a performance to go to), he began to think about what he could do to impress Hanzo. The songs that he had already written were fine, most of them were about his past and his lifestyle so they were pretty alright as songs went, but now that he had a goal to impress Hanzo, he felt inspiration stirring to write something new. Something a bit more romantic than his previous ventures. 

So that was his plan. Over the next week, he would do his best to write a song for Hanzo. 

And he did just that. 


	11. Climbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg a consistent upload? maybe im back on track again! (Thank you guys for the comments, i always appreciate them and they continue to motivate me :'') shoutout to Lennarang for commenting on every chapter so far <3) Enjoy!

The first day that Jesse started writing his song for Hanzo went just about as well as most other days. He woke up a bit early to get started and to give him some time to sleep before his performance that night, and he ended up saving some time by not needing to drop by the shop. As much as he wanted to see Hanzo every day, it was nice that he had Saturdays and Sundays to gather his bearings again. 

He woke up around 7:00 in the morning, making him feel rather horrid but it was worth it when he started getting into his song-writing position. This position was in Jesse’s bedroom on his floor. His bedroom was moderately sized, smaller than the kitchen-living room combination and bigger than the bathroom. His bedroom clearly had the most impressive furniture out of the whole apartment, (though he supposed that wasn’t much to say considering there was only a couch, a box T.V., and a few little shelves with some nick knacks on them.) His room had cream colored walls that were adorned with posters, most of them being ones he got from concerts when he was younger. Some of them were even signed, and those were the ones that were kept in cheapy dollar-store frames. He had a little sliding-door closet on the left-most wall as well as a wardrobe, though the wardrobe mostly consisted of his fancier clothes while his closet held his casual clothes. On the opposite wall, there was a drawer/vanity desk that was adorned with bottles of alcohol, (some empty, some full), mostly untouched cigar boxes, sheet music, and various little nick knacks that he had picked up over the course of his life. For example, there were a pair of keys on his desk. Did he know what they were for? No, but maybe he would find out one day, and that was why he kept them. He had a sneaking suspicion it was related to a certain cowgirl’s bike, but he wasn’t gonna touch that. 

In the middle of the room laid his bed, easily the most attractive piece of furniture in that room. All of the furniture had matching wood, the wardrobe, the vanity, and the frame of the bed. They were all crafted in a beautiful indian laurel wood, matching pretty well with his western aesthetic. The mattress on his bed left something to be desired, as did the sheets and blankets laying over top of it, but it was a good enough bed for a good night’s rest. 

There was a space out in the middle of the room between the door and the bed, and that was where McCree often found himself when writing music. He wasn’t sure what it was about that spot, maybe it was being surrounded by the music posters or maybe it was just the familiar aura of his room, but whatever it was it worked like a charm. 

So there he sat, his first day of writing a song for his florist friend. He felt like he had the right headspace to create, but then he was faced with turning his mindset into actual words and notes. He picked up his guitar first, as he usually got his best ideas when he was just mindlessly strumming the strings. So he did that. 

He tried to think about what he wanted to accomplish with this song, firstly trying to justify making this song by wanting to outdo all of his previous work. His original songs all held a special place in his heart, of course, but this was the time to truly create his magnum opus. He went on with this line of thinking for that day, strumming his guitar aimlessly for a few hours until his ‘go to sleep’ alarm started going off.   
  
Needless to say that day ended up being pretty unproductive. 

The second day that Jesse wrote his song went a bit better than the day before, but only a bit. He decided that he needed to switch up his thinking, as bettering himself clearly wasn’t the incentive that was going to spur some kind of inspirational turnabout. As he struggled with thinking of something to write, sitting on his bedroom floor staring at the ceiling, his phone buzzed. 

Jesse raised a brow down at the little metal brick sitting beside him, flipping it over to check what the notification was for. 

_ (1) New Text Message: _ _   
_ 🌼Hanzo🌼

As soon as he read the name, all thoughts of the song left him. He quickly opened up his phone and read over the message a few times. 

🌼Hanzo🌼: Do you have any performances today? 

Jesse felt himself internally facepalm. Yes, he did have a performance that day and yes he did completely forget about it. One look at the time brought him a bit of relief though, as it was still rather early in the day. He decided to indulge himself in a conversation with the florist with that information.    
  
Jesse: Yep, I’m booked over at Rose Liquor for a while. You gonna be there? 

🌼Hanzo🌼: Of course.    
🌼Hanzo🌼: Actually can you give me a ride?

Jesse: Sure, if you know what you’re getting into.

🌼Hanzo🌼 **:** Yes, yes, the bike, I’m aware.

A bit of peace passed as Jesse read over the messages a few times, a question sprouting in his head. 

Jesse: Hey I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drive yourself to any of my shows

🌼Hanzo🌼: ?

🌼Hanzo🌼: I believe that is true, why do you mention it?

Jesse: What do you drive? 

A few minutes of silence passed again, silence that built tension in Jesse’s chest. Was that too personal of a question? Were they not close enough friends to ask about each other’s cars?

🌼Hanzo🌼: I don’t drive anything. 

Jesse: ? 

Jesse: wdym by that 

🌼Hanzo🌼: What?

Jesse rolled his eyes with a little smile and typed out an explanation. It was a bit strange to see a man that was only a year older than him have such little knowledge on things like basic social acronyms. He even had a better phone than McCree did.

Jesse: ‘What do you mean’ by that

🌼Hanzo🌼: Ah

🌼Hanzo🌼: I don’t have a driver’s license. 

Jesse: What???

🌼Hanzo🌼: Is that so strange?

Jesse: Yeah kinda!! 

Jesse: How do you get anywhere?

🌼Hanzo🌼: How do  _ you  _ get anywhere? 

🌼Hanzo🌼: The streets here are always full, you could hardly drive a car anyway. Much faster to take public transport. 

Jesse: I dunno Hanzo my bike gets pretty fast

🌼Hanzo🌼: Believe me, I’m fully aware of that. 

Jesse: Why not get a bike, then?

🌼Hanzo🌼: Are you kidding? That’s like signing my own death certificate

Jesse: Hey now I’ve been riding my motorcycle for years and years and  _ I  _ haven’t died!!

🌼Hanzo🌼: That’s because you actually know how to drive it. Or how to drive at all. 

Jesse: Come on, I bet you know how to drive. You just can’t do it legally

🌼Hanzo🌼: Actually I don’t know a whole lot about driving at all. 

Jesse: Wow… 

🌼Hanzo🌼: Don’t judge me!!! I’ve been perfectly fine without knowing how to drive this long. 

Jesse: I could teach you

🌼Hanzo🌼: As if, that’s illegal.

Jesse: It’s only illegal if you get caught darlin 

Hanzo felt the need to suppress a laugh at the term used even in text form without the ‘g’. Surely he had to have some kind of self awareness in that case. 

🌼Hanzo🌼: You’re going to get arrested one of these days 

Jesse: Wouldn’t be the first or the last ;)

Hanzo rolled his eyes and adjusted himself atop his bed, having been laying there for a bit with the opportunity to sleep in. Not having the shop open on weekends was rather nice. 

🌼Hanzo🌼: Wow I’m friends with a criminal 

Jesse: Just a minor one 

Jesse: What can I say I’m a troublemaker

🌼Hanzo🌼: Yeah you’re a real bad boy alright 

🌼Hanzo🌼: What did you do then?

Jesse: I told you just minor stuff 

Jesse: I think the only somewhat major thing I’ve been arrested for is being obscenely drunk in public 

🌼Hanzo🌼: Well that’s a relief to hear

🌼Hanzo🌼: ...kind of

Jesse: What did you think I did, kill someone?

🌼Hanzo🌼: You never know 

🌼Hanzo🌼: But not really, I don’t think you could kill someone. 

Jesse: Hey I’m a bad boy, remember? I could totally kill someone!!

🌼Hanzo🌼: Ok there Mr. Mischief 

Jesse: I can’t believe you doubt me! 

🌼Hanzo🌼: I can’t believe that you would try to convince me that you’re anything worse than a sweetheart 

Jesse paused before typing back. A warmth filled his chest at that comment and a smile spread across his face slowly. Despite having been teasing at him being a ‘bad boy’, McCree found that comment rather flattering. He let himself fall backward onto his floor and stare up at his phone, reading over the line a few times with a shamelessly affectionate look on his face. 

Jesse: Aww, you think I’m a sweetheart? 

A bit of time passed before Hanzo’s next text, said time being spent by Hanzo similarly letting a shameless affection take over him. 

🌼Hanzo🌼: Of course I do 

Jesse continued talking to Hanzo for a few minutes, sending texts back and forth and relishing in his indirect company. Even from the other side of a cell line he had Jesse’s entire attention. As he sent and received messages, he would occasionally catch the sight of his guitar and paper strewn about the floor, having been abandoned for his temporary venture. He was still faced with the problem of turning his thinking around to write his song, and he had yet to find much else in his brain past Hanzo and how he made him feel. 

…

McCree suddenly picked up his guitar and started tuning, changing the key slightly before strumming aimlessly. He was doing the same thing he had been doing the day before, but now he had a renewed hope that he’d be able to find a starting point now that he was thinking from a different angle. 

He wanted to express how Hanzo made him feel. He didn’t say that the day before partially because he didn’t want to admit that Hanzo made him feel enough to write a song about and partially because he didn’t want to write his song purely with Hanzo in mind, but there was really no point by then. He knew deep down that he was just writing that for Hanzo and probably wouldn’t ever release it to anyone else, but for some reason he felt a bit scared to truly dive into that subject even just with Hanzo. There was a lot there, a lot to dig through and analyze, and he wasn’t sure how Hanzo would react to any of it. Was this song supposed to be a confession? A confession of what? 

What did Hanzo make him feel? 

So that was where Jesse started, having successfully wasted half of his song-writing day talking to Hanzo but also having successfully spent the other half making a list of what Hanzo made him feel. One would think that also constituted as wasting time, but Jesse believed the contrary, as that list would kickstart his songwriting process the next day. 

It took about three days for Jesse to really get a handle on what he was creating. It didn’t really help that by the time he knew what he wanted to do, it was the middle of the week and he had yet another scheduled event to attend. Not only did he have performances to go to in the evening, but he also continued his tradition of going to Orchid Alive when it was open. He had to shorten his visits in order to write his song before he had to sleep, but he decided that visiting Hanzo during his songwriting actually helped more than it inconvenienced. He could acutely analyze his feelings around Hanzo when he  _ was _ actually around Hanzo, he found, and after seeing Hanzo in person, his songwriting went quite a bit smoother. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were spent translating his feelings into a sound. Through both guitar  _ and  _ a little piano set that he had recorded some parts on, he managed to create a nice melody line, one with an almost bittersweet tone. He wasn’t sure what brought on that feeling to his music, but it came naturally to the song so he didn’t want to change it. He came to learn that when it came to songwriting, you just have to let whatever comes to you come to you. 

After the actual songwriting part was mostly over and done with, it came down to translating the feeling of the music and the moral into lyrics. That was the hardest part, Jesse would come to find. 

It took the rest of his time to get these lyrics down, the two days he had left, that is. Thursday was spent working on lyrics completely, he only dropped by Orchid Alive for an hour that day and even sacrificed some of his sleeping time to write. It slightly affected his performance that night, but he found it was worth it after he wrote an outline for the whole song. He even managed to get a few final drafts of verses, having translated his feelings into words. 

Friday was a bit more chaotic, however, as not only did he visit Orchid Alive to confirm things with Hanzo for the next day, but he had his performance at the High Noon Saloon as well. He also had to spend some time clearing up his schedule for Saturday, cancelling shows at a few bars the moment he woke up. He knew he’d have to make up for that day money-wise, Saturday was always one of his better paying days and kept him above water when it counted. He hoped that the High Noon Saloon would treat him as well as it always did to make up for that, but he could only do that. Hope. 

The songwriting part of his day didn’t fare much calmer either, as he was frantically trying to complete his song in time for Hanzo to come over. He had made pretty good progress the day before, and by that point it all came down to actually putting the lyrics along to the music and tying everything together with a pretty bow. Not only did this process take up all of the time away from work and Orchid Alive, but it also took up a good chunk of his sleeping time. 

It was somewhat worth it in the end, however, because by the time he absolutely had to go to sleep, he had completed his song. It was written down and had been run through nearly a hundred times, seemingly perfected. As McCree went to sleep that afternoon, he felt contentment in his chest for the first time that entire week. He felt ready to show his song off to Hanzo, ready to impress him with it. 

He slept like a baby, and despite having lost a few hours to his songwriting, he still felt ready as rain to perform for his favorite bar. Hanzo would be there, as usual, and Jesse was glad because it would give him a chance to internally run the song over while being in the presence of the person it was for. He made sure to sing covers that were somewhat opposite to the song he had written for Hanzo, wanting to create something of a polar experience for Hanzo the next day but still something pleasant for the bar. If he was honest, he felt that it was his best performance there yet, and everyone seemed to think so as well. He made an extraordinary amount of money by the end of the day, he actually had to change out his tip jar three separate times because he was doing so well. His last song played out with a cheer across the bar, and as he started packing up his things and walking offstage, Hanzo caught up with him. 

“Jesse!” He called out across the way, stopping the cowboy dead in his tracks and putting a little smile on his face. He loved it when Hanzo used his first name, and somehow its rarity made it even better. 

“Hey, darlin’! How’d you like the show?” Jesse asked with a smile. He asked every time and every time he always got the same answer, but even the same praise over and over again was praise. This time, however, he didn’t expect the answer he got. Hanzo was brimming with excitement, unusually expressive, even. 

“That was such an amazing show! The whole bar loved you!” He exclaimed with a smile and a clap. McCree had to physically restrain from giggling at the sight of Hanzo so excited, but he couldn’t help a little laugh escaping him anyway. 

“The  _ whole  _ bar?” McCree reiterated, drawing a nod from the florist. 

“Everyone in it.” Hanzo finished, calming down a bit and instead idling with a sweet smile. 

“You always impress, but tonight was truly something else. Did something good happen today, by chance? You seem in much brighter spirits, it’s really affected your performance.” 

McCree looked down tenderly at Hanzo, a dumb smile taking over his face completely. He couldn’t believe how… Normal it felt. It felt so normal to have Hanzo at his performance, praising him after he had done particularly well. He was going to be getting on the back of McCree’s bike soon after that, and that was going to feel just as normal. It was routine, comfortable. That comfortability, it was absolutely dream-like… 

But that all was about to change, and Jesse was ready for it. Maybe it wasn’t going to change completely, things would still be going on like they were, but they were going to cross the threshold of personal spaces. Hanzo would be coming over to his place. 

Hanzo would be coming over to his place… 

...and the one thing he forgot to do was clean. 

So McCree spent the early hours of Saturday speed-cleaning his apartment, even pulling out the broom and sweeping up all the floors. A week of preparation had passed successfully for the cowboy…

But he wasn’t the only one preparing obsessively that week. 


	12. Trailing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo were building up folks!! Hope you enjoy <3

“You’re  _ unbelievable _ .” Genji exclaimed playfully to a mostly empty apartment. From somewhere in the back, Hanzo responded. 

“You don’t know what this is like, Genji! If you did, you’d be panicking as well!” 

It was the Saturday evening after Hanzo had successfully landed a visit to McCree’s apartment and he had called Genji to his apartment for some help with it all. Genji really couldn’t believe the story when he heard it, his own brother, the one that he had known to be anti-social, quiet, humble, self-sacrificing, had come on out and asked his friend, (honestly the fact that they weren’t dating yet really frustrated Genji), if he could come over. After the initial shock, he was pretty proud!  _ His own brother, the one that he had known to be anti-social, quiet, humble, self-sacrificing, had come on out and asked his friend if he could come over!  _ He was quick to head over to Hanzo’s apartment after hearing the story, but he didn’t really expect to have to be a moral support to his brother when he arrived. 

“What do you have to worry about? You’re both friends, you like each other, it should be fine! What’s the difference between you two being alone in your shop and this?” Genji scanned the shelves in Hanzo’s living room as he spoke, looking for a movie to throw on while he was there. Hanzo hardly ever let him touch his dvd collection and sure as hell didn’t let him take any with him, so he took the opportunity to watch nostalgic movies from his younger years when he could. He managed to pluck a superhero movie that he and Hanzo watched when they were teenagers from the shelf before his brother walked into the living room with his response. His hair was down as well as clearly unbrushed, but it was the morning and he didn’t have to go into work so he didn’t fuss about it too much. Genji had seen him in worse states. He was also wearing a tank top, again revealing his tattoos but still not worrying as Genji had known about those too. 

“It’s completely different!” Hanzo spat back, expressing quite a bit more than he usually would. Genji would chalk this up to just being more comfortable in his own sibling’s presence, but part of him was starting to notice that even for being  _ comfortable  _ he was a lot more outwardly emotional. He wondered if Hanzo himself noticed.    
“It will be his  _ home,  _ where he  _ lives _ ! He sleeps there! Not only that, but I asked on the basis of hearing his music, his personal works that he pours his emotions into! How rude of me… He probably felt obligated to let me come because I showed interest…” Hanzo shook his head, his lengthy black hair flowing over his shoulders. Genji kneeled down to pop his superhero movie into Hanzo’s dvd player, that of which was pretty fancy as dvd players went, and rolled his eyes. 

“You’re totally overthinking this, bro.” He responded, pressing the play button on the dvd player before landing himself on Hanzo’s sofa. Genji caught sight of a red flower on the side table, studying it for a moment before looking back at his brother. The collection of roses in his apartment was growing, though it looked a lot better kept than it had a month prior. More organized. It looked less like he was trying to bury his emotions under the flowers and more like he was displaying his emotions in an indirect way. It was nice to see.    
“Think of it like going to my apartment.” 

“That’s still completely different! You’re my brother, I can act as casually as I like!” Hanzo spat back, crossing his arms over his chest. Genji leaned his head back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling as an upbeat theme song for his movie rang through the living room. 

“Yet you still act like a stranger when you come over. I always have to give explicit permission before you even sit down.” Hanzo rolled his eyes as his brother spoke.    
  
“It’s called having manners. You  _ should  _ ask before sitting in someone else’s home.” Hanzo responded before Genji let out a laugh.    
  
“And that’s why I think you’ll be fine! You’ve got a stick so far up your ass I don’t think you  _ could  _ do anything wrong.” Genji laughed as he said this, only to have a pillow shoved onto his upward-facing face. He flailed a bit as Hanzo pressed the fabric against his brother’s face.    
“Mphkay!! Mphkay! I gpht it!” Hanzo pulled the pillow up and tossed it back at his brother after he mumbled a retort, stalking off around the couch and slumping himself beside Genji. Genji gathered his bearings and laughed the ‘attack’ off, patting his brother on the shoulder a few times as a comfort. 

“What are you worried about  _ exactly _ ?” Genji asked, only for Hanzo to sigh in defeat. 

“I’m worried that I’ll make a mistake.” Genji rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.    
  
“I just said that you won’t-” 

“That’s not what I mean.” Hanzo interrupted, drawing Genji’s interest. For once, Genji kept his mouth shut in order for his brother to continue, and that he did.    
“I mean... “ He stopped, sighed, and placed his head in his hands for a moment. “I’m worried that I’ll lose control. Do something I’ll regret and drive him away.” 

Genji arched a brow and looked down at his brother with a bit of shock. He had a suspicion of what he would say, but he wanted to hear the words from the horse’s mouth. See if his brother was truly in touch with himself. 

“Such as?” 

“...such as…” Hanzo started, groaning into his hands and kicking his foot.    
“...Such as wiping that wolfish smile off of his face! Such as shoving that ridiculous hat off his ridiculous head and brushing that unruly hair! Such as finding out what the hell ‘BAMF’ means! I’ll admit it, I  _ was  _ staring at his belt buckle!” Hanzo growled with a start, startling his brother in the slightest. Out of all the things he expected to come from this conversation, that certainly wasn’t on the list. He wasn’t going to stop his brother, hell no this was healthy for him, but he was sufficiently shocked by the outburst. 

So, Hanzo continued, rising from the couch to angrily pace around his living room. His face was a bright red color, a color that Genji hadn’t seen on him since their huge fight. This time, its merit was more positive than before, thankfully. 

“It’s horrible, I shouldn’t think such things. My brain should be taken from my very head! Every time he walks into my shop he walks up and leans on the counter and looks up at me! He goes through the effort to be lower than my eye level, why does he do that? Does he know what it’s like to look down on him? He’s gorgeous from every angle, it’s infuriating! The way the lights in my shop just highlight everything about him, you’d think there’d be one,  _ one  _ unflattering part of him, but no! Not a single place on him is even  _ slightly  _ unattractive!” Hanzo started moving his hands as he spoke, definitely something he picked up from McCree. Even Genji could tell that just from the few times he had spoken with the cowboy. In fact, the more he was looking at Hanzo, the more he could pick out little things from McCree. 

The way he was emoting was the most obvious thing he picked up, as he was immensely more expressive both with his facial expressions and his gestures than ever before. Even during their fight he kept pretty stoic when a silent moment would pass, but now he had some kind of expression on his face most times. He would stand with his hands somewhere other than by his side, whether that be with his hands on his hips or crossed over his chest or whatever suited him in a particular instance.    
Hanzo had also started speaking in a more casual way. There were more contractions in his language, less enunciation at times. Typically, Hanzo would be more anal about that kind of thing after having been in so many speech courses for so long. Even if it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, he held his impressive language abilities in high regard. It was likely that he still did, but he was more so just less worried about his appearances in casual settings. Again, it was hard to gauge much considering they were in Hanzo’s element, where he was most comfortable. By the time Genji had tuned back into the conversation, or rather the vent session, Hanzo had moved on to more intense feelings, clearly ones that he had been actively suppressing. Genji could tell that what he had said at the beginning of this outburst was stuff that he thought about all the time just by the calculated way he expressed it, but he started getting a bit disjointed. Seeing Hanzo in that kind of state was pretty uncommon. 

Even to Genji.

“I just don’t understand, why me? Why my shop? Why did he have to walk into  _ my  _ flower shop and talk so much to  _ me  _ and be so charming around  _ me? _ I don’t understand it! What about me attracts such a person? Not ‘attracts’, but…” He paused for a moment and continued on with his next thought, but that caught Genji’s attention. “He’s just so extroverted, so social, and me? I’m none of those things! I’m his complete opposite, so why does he spend so much time with me? Why does he  _ try  _ to spend so much time with me? It would be different if we kept meeting by chance like before, but… Wait.” 

Hanzo paused and stopped dead in his tracks, holding his hands up.    
“Those weren’t by chance, were they? He didn’t  _ need _ to buy flowers for his apartment every week, did he?” Hanzo looked to Genji, and his brother simply pursed his lips and shook his head. Hanzo groaned and put his head back in his hands, his hair creating a curtain around him. He continued to go on and on about how Jesse was so different from him, how they had nothing in common. That tangent evolved over time into more describing what Hanzo liked about the cowboy rather than what made him different. Maybe he didn’t explicitly say ‘I like…’ but Genji could hear the adoration in his voice.    
  
“He’s kind. Kind to everyone he meets. He’s approached a hundred times after his performances and I know he’s exhausted, but he keeps wearing a smile and greeting everyone. He makes others feel good, warm even. He relishes the attention, I think. Both giving it and taking it, and he likes being… praised.” Hanzo went quiet for a moment, holding his hands together against his chest as his eyes wandered to one of his red plants in the room.    
“He likes when he does something that makes others happy, and he likes being told so, even if he doesn’t want you to know that. It fuels him, and when he feels like he hasn’t done much in a while…” Hanzo recalled Jesse’s expressions back during the confrontation in his apartment. Jesse’s  _ heartbreaking  _ expressions.   
  
“I just want… Every time I see him like that, I…” Hanzo slowly faded, his expression falling from excitement into something of defeat. He slowly lowered himself onto his sofa and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and sighing. He stopped talking. 

_ That  _ was Genji’s time to speak. 

“You know…” He started, knowing he had Hanzo’s attention based on the way he started fidgeting. He only did that when he knew his brother was about to talk seriously. It sort of made him nervous, Genji thought.    
“I’ve only ever seen you care this much about one other thing.” Genji idled, waiting for Hanzo to inevitably tilt his head in Genji’s direction with an arched brow. Genji smiled.    
“Your family.” Hanzo seemed to deflate even more with that statement, but Genji knew it was positive progress. Even despite the rather pitiful look on Hanzo’s face. His face was still red, but by then it was a brooding red, darker than when he was in the heat of the moment. It was knowing, but only subconsciously.    
“You care about him  _ so much _ . So much that you know all these little things about him. His tics and habits, how he reacts to praise and correcting, how he speaks to  _ other  _ people. How  _ other people  _ speak to him. You know so much about him, so much about what he likes to do, what he likes to talk about, what he likes to drink, even. I bet he doesn’t even have to  _ ask  _ for you to get him a drink nowadays when you guys are at his performances.” Hanzo nodded lightly, accepting everything his brother was saying. He couldn’t deny any of it, and that was the scary part. He was confronting months of emotion all at once and it was clear that it was affecting him. Genji knew his brother’s limits, but he knew what he could take and what he needed.    
“I don’t want to frighten or offend you. I know that a lot of this is… new. Ok, maybe the situation isn’t  _ new,  _ per say, but the way that you’re reacting to it is.” Hanzo looked over at his brother with interest, finally making eye contact.    
“You like to keep it all in, brother. If there’s something there, you’d prefer to let it burn out like a candle rather than let fuel be added to the flame. You’ve been like that ever since… You know what.” Hanzo nodded, wincing a bit at the thought. Genji repeated the action as something of a quick bonding moment before continuing.    
“I don’t know  _ why,  _ but I know you’re afraid of letting your emotions thrive. Get out of hand. This is one of those instances, and because it’s an emotion that, as far as I know, you haven’t dealt with before… It’s worse than ever. I think that this should be the point where you… Confront this problem.” Genji paused and gauged Hanzo’s reaction, sighing at the lack of retaliation and landing his hand on his brother’s shoulder to really punch in what he was saying.    
“I’m gonna say this in a really easy way, ok?” 

Hanzo nodded hesitantly, bracing himself for… something. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew that whatever his brother was about to tell him would impact him  _ greatly.  _ Genji took a breath and made a simple expression, genuine. 

  
  
“I think you’re in love with Jesse.” 

  
  
  


A moment passed.    
  
As did another.    
  
One more passed before Hanzo moved. He looked forward, moving his head slightly to do so. A sort of strange emotion passed over him, part tension and fear and part… relief. It felt like remembering where he placed something he lost a long time ago in an old home, a piece of jewelry or something of the sort. He knew where it was, perhaps even  _ exactly  _ where it was, but what could he do about it?    
  


What could he do about being in love with Jesse McCree?   
  
Thinking that alone was enough to send him into another wave of shock.    
  
“I’m in love with Jesse McCree.”    
  
Saying it had the same effect.    
  
“Are you?” Genji asked quietly, making Hanzo rise from his seat and let his hands fall to his sides. He looked around his apartment. Red was adorned in places that he hadn’t noticed before, either in the form of flowers, various trinkets, or even in little things like the movies he had been watching. There were a stack of dvds next to his tv that all had red covers. Red. That was the one thing that was everywhere, he was seeing it.    
  
Jesse had infected him. His life, his work, his home.    
  
His heart.    
  
He’d pricked Hanzo’s finger and inserted himself in the florist’s blood.    
  
And that was what kickstarted his next six days. While McCree was busy writing his song, Hanzo was busy doing some self analyzing. He kept up appearances like a charm, he always could and he always would no matter what mind-shattering emotional breakthrough came to him. He stayed normal around Jesse in person, if not a bit physically distanced. It was a strike of luck, honestly, that Jesse was so hard at work because all it did was give Hanzo more time to be away from the cowboy. Able to think clearly without the haze of red that Jesse brought with him.    
  
The first few days after his breakthrough were easily the strangest, as Hanzo found himself doing things that he hadn’t realized. He found himself checking his phone more frequently than usual, checking the time just as frequently. He couldn’t tell if this was a new development either, there was so much that was already happening that he hadn’t noticed that he could decipher what was new and what was just discovered. Genji stayed overnight when Hanzo called on Saturday and therefore accompanied him on his first day through this journey, but there wasn’t anything that he could say at that point that hadn’t already been said. He was there more for some post-event moral support. He left that Sunday evening, and therefore left Hanzo to his own devices the following Monday.    
  
Said Monday would be the first day he had to cope with his breakthrough in direct company of the man at the center of it all. Jesse showed at Orchid Alive right on time, and Hanzo dealt with it just as he usually would. Speaking to him came naturally with the initial friendship, and it was easy to feign certain habits of his in order to remain inconspicuous. It also helped that Jesse seemed distracted during his visit, his mind on something else entirely.  _ That  _ really was a blessing in disguise, because one of Hanzo’s morning regulars  _ did  _ comment on his behavior. Thankfully it was early in the day and Hanzo could adjust accordingly.    
  
The days after that shifted into something somehow easier to comprehend and also worse than anything he had ever experienced. The next days became less about analyzing Hanzo’s emotions, he had that part done, but more about Hanzo’s direct interactions with Jesse. It was a few days of explicit interaction with Jesse, and for some reason, those interactions made Hanzo react so much more intensely than ever before. Actually, that wasn’t a fair statement for him to make, he really didn’t have anything to compare with considering the tinted glasses he had been wearing during all previous interactions. There was only one moment before that something of the sort had occurred, but it was before their confrontation in Hanzo’s apartment and was therefore deemed illegitimate.    
  
A good example of this phenomenon was on that Thursday when Jesse was starting to wrap up his visit. Quite literally, as a customer had come in and he was tasked with wrapping up the flowers. He had been trying new ways to tie bows on the bouquets that he had been wrapping just as something of a fun pastime, and this particular arrangement required more than two hands. He called Hanzo over from the front of the store, both of his hands occupied with the wrapping he was doing. The obscenely tall and intelligent customer he was helping was looking around at the other flowers in place of making more small talk about quantum physics, so he felt he had some free time to try out a new bow.    
  
“Hanzo, darlin’, would you help me for a sec?” Jesse called sweetly. That was the first instance that Hanzo  _ noticed _ . He felt his heart jump completely at the way he was called, the way his name was said, the combination of his name and his nickname, and the casual nature of it. This all passed in a manner of a few seconds at most, but to Hanzo it felt like years had passed before he made his way over to the counter towards the back of the shop. Jesse smiled at him and Hanzo felt a warmth spread across his chest, like he had inhaled during a warm summer day.    
  
“Trying new bow types again?” Hanzo asked, already knowing the answer but waiting for the cowboy’s answer nonetheless.    
  
“Yep, and I need an extra hand for this one.” Jesse paused to pull one of his hands out of the knot he had been making with some silver ribbon, promptly gesturing at the intricate design he was forming as he explained what he was trying to pull off. After Hanzo could see his vision, he was given instruction.    
“I want you to hold your finger right…” Jesse gently took Hanzo’s hand in his and directed it to one of the many holes in his creation, the warmth of the cowboy’s skin on the florists sparking a fire in Hanzo’s chest and forcing him to swallow.    
“There. Can you do that for me?” Hanzo nodded lightly and kept his finger right where McCree had directed it, not daring to move. He was already close to Jesse thanks to the tight space behind the counter, but now arms were crossing over each other in order to manipulate parts of the ribbon, and Hanzo was getting a bit heated. Jesse would occasionally make sounds as he worked, little grunts and sighs that always struck lightning right into his fingertips. Every time his hand would brush over Hanzo’s, he would feel a layer of heat travel at the speed of light up though his arm and into his face. He wondered if his cheeks were starting to change color. A brush of his finger here, a bump of hands there, a little grunt… He was getting worked up, but miraculously, the moment came to a close and Jesse told him to pull his finger out of the bow. It was really a gorgeous arrangement, and McCree was sufficiently and righteously proud of himself. The customer was very impressed and walked out very satisfied.    
  
Moments like that would repeat over the course of the week, and before Hanzo even knew it…   
  
The time was nearing. He was going to be in a remote location with McCree, completely alone. No chance of customers walking in at any moment. No chance of interruption. Just Hanzo, McCree, and some music. 

Oh boy. 


	13. Exposure

Jesse woke up rather begrudgingly that Saturday at 8:30-ish, having spent a mere five hours sleeping thanks to the late running show he had the night before. Of course, he was waking up at that time with a purpose, but that didn’t make it any less difficult. 

Hanzo and Jesse had agreed that Jesse would pick the florist up around eleven on his bike and they would ride back to his apartment, so that gave the cowboy a good two hours, excluding the thirty minutes it would take him to get ready for the day, to get the final touches of his visit and his song done. The first thing he did after dressing himself was hop on his bike and head out to the grocery store, as his apartment was lacking in snacks and drinks. He wanted to make sure that Hanzo would come back, and one of his efforts in doing that would be to have well stocked cabinets. He wasn’t sure what Hanzo liked to eat or even what he liked to drink. They hadn’t ever gone out to lunch or anything and when Hanzo accompanied the cowboy’s performances, he wouldn’t drink a drop. He knew that  _ Hanzo  _ knew  _ his  _ favorite drink because he always got at least one when he performed, (a double shot of cinnamon whiskey). He liked a bit of a bite to his liquor, and he did pick up a bottle of rum while he was out, but he also decided to pick up some wine in case Hanzo was more on that side of the alcohol spectrum. Of course he still didn’t know what  _ type  _ of wine Hanzo liked but by the time he got to the liquor store it was already getting close to ten, and he wanted to run through his song a few times before he had to go pick Hanzo up.    
  
So, at around 10:15, Jesse arrived back at his apartment with a few bags of light snacks and various types of drinks, as well as some alcohol if the time came. If Hanzo didn’t drink it, he knew  _ he _ would.    
He spent a couple of minutes putting up the groceries he had got, various types of chips, some fruit, some Little Debrah boxes of random cookies and cakes he had thought looked good, and he got some random basic groceries to fill his fridge and cabinets with to make it seem like he actually had his culinary life together past eating cup noodles and drinking whiskey. He did know how to cook some things, to be fair. He could cook grilled cheese, he could make macaroni and cheese, he could make…. Toast?    
  
Ok he didn’t know how to cook a whole lot but he could pretend that he could and that was what he was going to do. 

After putting up all the groceries and setting the alcohol out in the open on his counter, (not for any particular reason of course there definitely weren’t ulterior motives with that placement), Jesse retreated to his song-writing spot to finalize his song. He played it over a few times on his guitar without the words, ironing out the flats and sharps before he went on to sing along. It was a song he had been working on exclusively all that week and it was pretty perfect, he thought. He only had to go over it a few times before he had confidence, so he decided to take some time brushing off his other original songs. He had quite a few, and he carefully picked the ones that he was going to play for Hanzo from his catalogue. A large majority of his songs were written about his lifestyle, his rebellious past, things like that and that was the kind of thing he wanted to show Hanzo, but there was one song he had written about something else that he wanted to show the florist. See, he had a plan when it came to organizing what songs he was going to play, because he had a specific message he wanted to convey. He wanted to tell Hanzo his story indirectly through his music, which is what he usually wanted to do but he wanted to especially tell Hanzo. It was no secret that something special was between them, Jesse could smell that kind of connection from a mile away and he had dealt with it a hundred times before, but this… This was something of a new experience for him.    
  
All of the relationships he had been in before were all flings, passing flames and one night stands that did little more than boost his ego a bit. He had only ever gotten in one slightly committed relationship, but it ended pretty rocky to say the least. He wasn’t good with commitment, didn’t take it well, and he had to admit that exploring that kind of relationship with Hanzo was… scary. It was scary to think about possibly being in a relationship with Hanzo and doing the wrong thing or god forbid losing interest.  _ That  _ was what scared him the most, if he was honest. He had such a burning interest for Hanzo and he knew that he cared  _ so _ much for him, but what if that passion faded. Would it? It had been a few months by that point and it was just as strong, if not stronger than it was when they met, so maybe it would stay. Maybe it was real.    
  
That day would be one of the determining factors, he realized. He also realized that he had spent way too much time sitting around  _ thinking  _ about the visit rather than actually putting the visit into action and one look at the time threw him into a tizzy. It was 10:55, five minutes until he was supposed to go pick Hanzo up, and when he looked at his notifications he was horrified to find four new text messages all from Hanzo.    
  
🌼Hanzo🌼: Can’t wait to come over!    
🌼Hanzo🌼: Do you want me to bring anything?    
🌼Hanzo🌼: I’ll be standing outside the complex

🌼Hanzo🌼: Text me when you’re on your way

Jesse hopped up and threw on his flannel over his white tank top, sporting the look he had worn on his second day at Orchid Alive. He knew it was a favorite of Hanzo’s, or at least he had a sneaking suspicion thanks to the way Hanzo would steal more glances when he wore it. He promptly ran out of his apartment, yanking the keys off of his desk and dashing down the halls of his complex down to the parking lot where his motorcycle was parked. He skipped over the helmet and instead used his free hand while mounting the bike to text Hanzo a warning. He knew that Hanzo would have something to say when he arrived without a helmet for himself, but he had one for Hanzo and that was all that mattered. 

Hanzo, on the other hand, woke up that morning at 6:00 on the dot. He had a few things to do, as he had made a plan the previous day. He woke up and the first thing he did was call his brother, who in turn wasn’t very happy about being woken up. 

“Genji, it’s already seven, stop whining.” The florist spoke as his brother drove them down the L.A. streets. Genji  _ did  _ learn how to drive, unlike his brother, and he quite enjoyed driving his little sports car even if he didn’t get to go very fast in the cramped L.A. traffic. Hanzo was disapproving but he didn’t have time to lecture his brother on his superfluous car when he was trying to fit in a hair and eyebrow appointment and clothes shopping venture in four hours. He knew the hair and eyebrow appointment would take longest, he had quite long hair and he was extremely anal about the way he cared for it, but at least he payed well and was polite.    
  
So that was their first stop, a little local-run hair salon a pretty good way away from Hanzo’s apartment to get his hair fixed up. He got a little trim and straightened out his hair, promptly getting it tied up nicely in a simple bun and that took a good two hours out of his time. Genji spent that time talking with a few of the stylists, charming them until he had to leave with his quote ‘stuck up older brother’. Hanzo rolled his eyes at that and dragged his brother out of the salon so they could get their clothes shopping in before he had to actually get dressed for the visit. That was the main reason Hanzo insisted that Genji tag along, actually, because he had some semblance of fashion sense when it came to casual scenarios. Thankfully by the time they walked into the shop Genji had chosen, it was around nine-twenty and the sparrow was in a better mood. 

The clothes shopping went well, Genji was able to pick a style for his brother pretty quickly and only took about an hour to checkout. All the clothes he picked out for his brother were closer to the athletic style than the formal, and he knew that Hanzo wasn’t going to like it at first but that he would warm up to it, and that he did. He grabbed a few different outfits while he was there, but the one that they decided Hanzo would wear included a white tank top with a slightly off-white dragon design covering it beneath a dark grey, sleeveless hoodie. The look was completed with a pair of matching grey, baggy leggings tucked into his black, steel-toed boots. He decided to wear a black stud in his bridge piercing just to finish the athletic look, and though he hated to admit it… He felt like he looked pretty good. His brother hardly ever disappointed on the fashion front, despite all the flack Hanzo often gave his brother for his style. 

By the time they were over and done with in the clothes shop, it was nearing 10:30 and Hanzo started growing frantic to get ready. He still had to get home, get dressed, grab his things, and go stand outside of the complex, so that was what he did. Genji drove him about as fast as he could, much to Hanzo’s dismay, and left him about twenty minutes to get dressed. Hanzo raised that time one and had ten minutes left to spare to grab a little grey tote bag full of his belongings before he locked up his apartment and waited outside of his complex. Amidst his panic, he managed to send Jesse four different texts and he would be lying if he wasn’t a bit embarrassed. He waited outside his complex for about twenty minutes, and at 11:13, Jesse pulled up on his motorcycle. 

Without a helmet.    
  
Hanzo greeted McCree with an arched brow as he pulled up, earning the defensive smile from his counterpart that threw his heart into motion. Jesse threw his leg up and over his bike and landed on the floor with a thump, leaning onto the motorcycle and throwing his hands up defensively.    
  
“I know, I know, I could get hurt without my helmet.” Jesse exclaimed, promptly crossing his arms over his chest as Hanzo approached him slowly. Hanzo caught the cowboy giving his figure a scan and felt the urge to check his appearance in a mirror that he didn't have. Jesse’s smile grew slightly after that, however, and the urge ceased. He suddenly had a new urge to make the cowboy react like that more.    
  
“You mock my advice?” Hanzo retorted, tilting his head up at Jesse. The cowboy smiled and laughed a bit to himself in response.   
  
“I wouldn’t dare. Now are you gonna get on the bike or not?” Jesse took a few steps back and reached into the back compartment of his motorcycle, pulling out a helmet and tossing it in Hanzo’s direction. Hanzo’s eyes widened for a moment before he flailed and hugged the helmet against his chest. Jesse laughed a bit and swung his leg back over the bike, resting his hands on the handles and revving the engine. Hanzo shook his head with a smirk as he threw his helmet on and walked over behind McCree. 

Getting on Jesse’s bike was another one of those events that would throw Hanzo into a fierce pining round, as every time he got on the cowboy’s bike he was forced to press up against his back. Thankfully, a lot of the time the fear of riding on the bike outweighed the heat of being so close to McCree, but when mounting and unmounting his motorcycle, there was no fear to hide the affection. That instance was no different.    
After pulling on his helmet, Hanzo rested a hand on the bike and lunged a leg over to sit behind Jesse, letting his hands idle between him and the cowboy as he started up the bike with a purr. Hanzo was usually pretty good about staying balanced on the bike, but he must have been distracted by something as Jesse kicked off, because he felt himself fling backwards and instinctively reach forward to catch his balance. He ended up wrapping his arms around McCree’s center in the process, laying his head against the cowboy’s back for extra comfort. His chest rose and fell dramatically as they drove on, catching McCree’s immediate attention. Hanzo couldn’t see it, but a worried expression grew on his face as he drove.    
  
“You alright, Hanzo?” The cowboy called out over the air and the sound of other cars, earning a nod against the fabric of his flannel. He nodded in response and focused on driving, letting the warmth of Hanzo’s front wash over his back and spread through his chest. A red color came over his cheeks, he could see it in his side mirror. That was the first time Hanzo had taken that position on the bike, usually content with holding his hands between them and keeping their distance. Even as they stopped at a traffic light, Hanzo didn’t let up, still holding his arms around the cowboy and resting his head against his back. In fact, Hanzo even turned his head at one point so his cheek was resting against the fabric of his flannel. McCree didn’t dare say a word, instead drinking in the moment and the warmth and taking a sweet breath as he kicked off into the street again. 

The bike ride was pretty short thanks to how close the two lived to each other, but to Hanzo and Jesse it felt like it went on for hours. That moment of Jesse hunched over his bike, speeding down L.A. roads with Hanzo curled around him from behind… It was heavenly. 

After arriving at his own complex, Jesse parked his bike right back in his parking spot and let the engine die down with a hum, straightening up and turning his head slightly over his shoulder to get a glance at Hanzo. The florist had pulled himself away from Jesse and found a nice spot to stare at on the floor, a pink color dusting his cheeks as he dismounted from the motorcycle. Jesse followed suit, pulling the keys out of the ignition and directing Hanzo through the doors of his apartment complex.    
  
“...Sorry.” Hanzo muttered, catching McCree’s attention.    
  
“For what?” He asked, pulling open the front doors of his complex and holding them as the florist made his way through. After following behind him and taking the lead again, Hanzo retorted.    
  
“I just- I didn’t want to fall off, is all. I didn’t intend to… Make you uncomfortable, or anything.” Hanzo pulled his hand up and gripped his forearm, a gesture that McCree had yet to see until that point. He proceeded to shove his hands in his pockets and give the florist a gentle nudge, gaining his eye contact in an instant.    
  
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, darlin’.” He started, bringing a slightly surprised expression to Hanzo’s face, one that only grew when Jesse looked off and rubbed the back of his neck.    
“I don’t… I don’t mind.”    
  
Hanzo walked on in a bit of silence until he looked off with a little smile on his face, letting his hands fall to his sides as he let Jesse lead him to his apartment. They made small talk on the way, little things like how different their complexes were and such. It was only until they reached McCree’s apartment on the second floor that their conversation came to a stop. Jesse pulled the same pair of keys with his motorcycle key on it, unlocking his apartment door and holding it open for his counterpart. Hanzo was hesitant, pausing before the threshold. He took a deep breath… got his heart rate in check… 

and stepped across the line into McCree’s apartment.    
  
It was immediately different from his own, as he expected, but it was exactly what he expected decor-wise. Wester memorabilia as far as the eye could see, and his eyes could see quite a lot thanks to how hard they were rolling at the sight.    
  
“Good grief.” Hanzo said to himself, turning to face Jesse just as he closed the door behind them.    
“You have a lovely apartment.” Hanzo spoke with a smile, retorting to his basic manners and thanking himself for doing so, because it drew a sweet smile from the cowboy. 

“Why thank you. Might not be at your apartment’s level, but It’s home.” Hanzo laughed at that response, promptly gesturing at his bag with a curious expression.    
“Oh, yeah, let me take that for you.” Jesse reached out his hand and Hanzo handed over his bag without a second thought, letting the cowboy gently set the tote down against the wall near the door. As Jesse turned around, he caught sight of Hanzo standing beside the couch, looking over at his little collection of dvds near his pitiful little tv.    
  
“Well shoot, darlin’, feel free to sit down. Act like you’ll stay a while.” Jesse teased, waltzing along to the kitchen portion of his kitchen/living room combination. Hanzo hesitated before lowering himself onto Jesse’s sofa, brushing off his legs and looking over the couch to get a glance at the cowboy. From what the florist could see, his kitchen was pretty well stocked. He wondered if McCree could cook…    
  
“Can I get you anythin’?” Jesse called out, holding a bottle of whisky by the neck as he looked over at Hanzo. Hanzo simply shook his head politely and looked forward.    
  
“I’m alright. I may want some of that wine later, though. It’s looking suspiciously full.” Hanzo retorted, drawing a hearty laugh from his counterpart and subsequently sending jolts of electricity through his nerves. He physically shuddered at the sound, shocking himself into stillness until he felt a weight depress the cushion next to him. Hanzo snapped out of his self induced trance and looked over to find Jesse laid back on his couch with an arm stretched over the back, a remote in his hand. He pressed a button on the remote and the tv flickered to life, catching Hanzo’s attention.    
  
“You have a pretty nice collection of movies at your place, don’t you? I ain’t got anythin’ quite like that but I do have a pretty nice selection.” Hanzo rolled his eyes as Jesse spoke, looking over at him with a snarky expression on his face.    
  
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” Hanzo held up his hand and brought his index knuckle to his chin, feigning thought.    
“Over seventy percent of them are westerns.”    
  
Jesse gave a defeated sort of chuckle, rising from his seat and stalking over to his little collection of dvds and gesturing at it.    
  
“I’d say closer to ninety percent, actually.” Hanzo chuckled and Jesse threw up his hands defensively.    
“Have you seen any of these? Some of them are pretty damn good!” Hanzo laughed in hums, his voice seemingly vibrating through the floor right up into Jesse’s head. The sound gave him almost a high, allowing a sickly warmth to spread over him.    
  


“Perhaps you can introduce me to the genre, then. Persuade me to love westerns,  _ cowboy _ .” Hanzo practically challenged Jesse with that, and a visible shudder fell down the cowboy’s spine at the name. He promptly wore a devious smirk and plucked one of the movies from the shelf, a favorite of his.    
  
“Movie, then music?”    
  
“Sounds like a plan to me.” 

With that, Hanzo and Jesse sat together on the cowboy’s couch, the lights turned low and a bowl of popcorn sitting between them as a western booted up on his rinky-dinky dvd player. It was pleasant, Hanzo thought. A perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon. 

And it was only going to get better from there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whewww man! I hate to cut this chapter off right in the middle of their visit but it was getting loooong! So to make due i guess ill just have to make chapter 14 all the more full of their adventures in Jesse's apartment ;) thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it so far <3


	14. Dehydrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy everyone!!! Sorry for the super inconsistent upload schedule, but here i am again with a brand new chapter, oh and its a good one >:) the information for the songs reference will be in the notes at the end!! I hope you enjoy <3

“Boone is dead?!” The angered voice of a florist called out across Jesse’s living room, a throw pillow following suit and landing with a ‘ _ pumph _ ’ against the screen of the very same cowboy’s box t.v. 

“He is...” The emotion-strained voice of a cowboy called out across the length of his couch, his words pulling a sigh from his florist counterpart. 

“How could this happen…” Hanzo started, bringing his hands up and covering his face for a few seconds before he unfolded again with an aggressive look on his face.    
“How could  _ you  _ do this to  _ me _ ?!” Hanzo ‘shouted’, (though ‘shout’ often constituted as slightly raising his voice in Hanzo’s case), pointing a finger at the cowboy sitting right beside him with a throw pillow ready as ammunition. Jesse couldn't help but start laughing uncontrollably at the sight, his hearty laugh pushing him backward against the couch and drawing a tear from his eye. His laugh travelled through the cushions of the couch and up along Hanzo’s spine, paralyzing him on the spot. The throw pillow in his hand slid down into his lap as his hand went limp, snapping him back to reality and feuling him to turn and pout at the t.v. That didn’t stop Jesse’s laughing which only continued to boil the features of the florist’s face. 

Jesse had spent the better half of an hour trying to get his florist counterpart into one of his favorite western movies, and he could say he was succeeding. At first, Hanzo took every opportunity to tear into the movie. From historical inaccuracies to cliches even to the misuse of firearms on set. After the first few hundred criticisms of the movie, he asked a genuine question! 

"So Holks just… robbed the bank? And no one caught him?" 

Of course the question was in itself a criticism of sorts, but that was the gateway into Hanzo getting invested in the story and that excited Jesse. 

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Jesse recovered and settled back onto the couch. He ended up a tick closer to Hanzo, his thigh falling a bit in the depression that the florist’s legs made in the cushion. Hanzo didn't flinch, so Jesse didn't move away. He probably thought about little things like that too much, whether it be the wayward brush of their arms as they gestured or the closeness of their bodies when scrunched up together on the couch between armies of throw pillows that were named rather appropriately. Hanzo hardly even reacted when things like that happened, so he probably shouldn't either. 

Of course, as far as  _ Jesse  _ knew, Hanzo didn't react much. 

Internally, Hanzo felt like his organs were boiling to make a lovely Hanzo Soup. Every moment of contact with the cowboy made a wave of heat wash over him and lunged him into a temporary trance. He'd made contact with Jesse before, perhaps even more so than that moment in McCrees apartment, but that was just it. Being in his apartment, the place where he lived and slept, it felt a lot more… personal. Everything Jesse's hand brushed his when they were reaching for popcorn or something, it felt a lot more intense, almost as if it were deliberate. Of course, he knew it wasn't and he only thought that because of the new, foreign environment he was in, but it still affected him quite intensely. 

The movie they had been watching faded out as credits rolled, a cliche-sounding western song playing as the names of the actors came sliding down the screen. Boone's death had greatly impacted Hanzo, apparently, because by the end of the movie he had a scowl that ran canyons across his brow. 

"Still upset about Boone?" Jesse quipped, clearly to the lighthearted annoyance of his counterpart. Hanzo groaned and rose from his seat, turning to face Jesse as he voiced his issue. 

"Of course I am! He was the best out of that entire group!" He exclaimed, drawing curiosity from Jesse. 

"What attracted you so much to him?" 

Hanzo stopped suddenly, his hands dropping to sit awkwardly at his sides as he glanced off. He didn't want to admit it, but a large part of the reason he got so attached to Boone was because of his physical similarities to Jesse. He had that sort of mid length hair, though it was black instead of brown, and he sported that sort of square and strong body type. The character was also rather laid back in nature, which reflected the cowboy to some degree, but Hanzo wasn't going to say that to Jesse's face. 

"W-...Well, Boone had the other members of the group in mind when he committed his crimes. He was still a criminal, but at least he cared about his friends." He settled with, earning a satisfied nod from Jesse before he rose to stand by Hanzo's side. The smirk on his face gave Hanzo an inkling that Jesse was about to say something that would make him roll his eyes.

"So can I call your intro into the world of western movies a success?" Hanzo, as predicted, rolled his eyes in response. 

"Fine. You got me to somewhat enjoy one of your silly little cowboy films." The florist admitted with playful defeat tinting his tone, bringing a victorious smile to his counterpart. 

"Woo-hoo! I think we can toast to that!" Jesse exclaimed, promptly bustling around his couch and nearly dropping his newly purchased bottle of wine as he poured the deep red liquid into a couple of normal glasses. The visual made Hanzo laugh to himself. 

After a few minutes of McCree fumbling with the wine and maybe spilling a bit on the counter, he proudly waltzed back over to Hanzo and handed him a novelty glass filled with the blood-like beverage. A picture of a horseshoe adorned both him and Jesse's glasses, and when they collided it made a satisfying 'clink' to call a toast to. 

"To a great introduction to my guilty pleasures?" Jesse spoke, bringing an affectionate but teasing smile to Hanzo's face as he raised his glass. 

"I suppose."

They both brought their glasses to their lips, one man drinking the wine with grace and poise as the liquid ran smoothly down his throat out of the glass while the other practically inhaled the saccharine alcohol. To Jesse, it felt like drinking water in comparison to what he'd usually toss down his throat. To Hanzo, it felt quite rich and intense. To his surprise the wine was actually rather good quality. Not to say he thought Jesse was a savage in the ways of wine or anything but he can't say he expected the man to be incredibly competent with the intricacies of wine. 

(Angela's birthday party apparently ended up being more than just a blackout-drunk night for him, it seemed.) 

After abandoning their glasses, Jesse led Hanzo across his living area to a door towards the back of his apartment. Hanzo didn't ask any questions, putting his trust pretty much completely in Jesse's hands.

"This is my room. Shall we get to what you came here for?" The cowboy drawled, throwing Hanzo into a confused and flustered state that suddenly left him asking all the questions he'd been lacking mere seconds before. His lack of answer apparently meant 'yes' to Jesse, as he continued to open the door to his bedroom and waltz right in. Hanzo hesitated, staring into the doorway for a moment to gather his bearings. 

_ 'Does he really want us to…?' _ The florist pondered. 

That is, until he truly glanced into Jesse's room to find some stacks of paper and a guitar scattered on his carpeted floor. He sighed partially in relief and partially in disappointment as he walked in, mentally scolding himself for even considering the possibility of anything else. 

"Ha…" Hanzo started, clearing his throat before continuing. 

"I-I see you've been busy?" 

"Yep!" Jesse threw back, enthusiastic as ever in tone but more nervous than Hanzo had ever seen in physical appearance. His hands shook as he lowered himself to the floor, inviting Hanzo to do the same. The cowboy continued as Hanzo settled himself against the carpet with crossed legs. 

"Wanted to perfect all my material before performin' for the first time." Hanzo smiled sweetly, sparking a flame below Jesse's throat.

"I'm sure it will be perfect." All of McCree's nerves seemed to melt away as Hanzo said that, his fingers naturally finding the strings of his guitar. 

He had already planned his entire act for Hanzo beforehand. The opener would be a cover, mostly to warm up his voice but also to give Hanzo a taste of his normal routine in a more private environment. He did a cover of Mother Mother's 'Wrecking Ball', which usually wasn't the type of song he'd be covering but he had found a way to make it slower and less rock-esque so it more so fit his style. It translated well to his guitar and he enjoyed singing it, earning a little round of applause from his florist counterpart at the end. 

As Jesse started playing his original songs, he tried to gauge Hanzo's reaction. He was an excellent audience member even in privacy, simply watching McCree silently and swaying his head lightly to the beat of whatever he was playing. Jesse even caught the man tapping his fingers against his leg occasionally. It comforted him to see Hanzo steadily enjoying his music, and it made him more and more confident that the man would like the song he wrote for him. 

Hanzo noticed quite a few things about McCree's singing voice through just those few songs alone. First of all, the cowboy had way deeper of a voice than Hanzo previously thought. All the songs that he had sung in the bars he'd been to were in low notes, yes, but Hanzo found that Jesse was hitting some seriously chest-rumbling pitches during his own songs. Not only could he  _ hit  _ low notes like that, but he had a lovely lower range. In a lot of the deeper songs Hanzo had heard, there wasn't much diversity in the sound purely because low notes like that are hard to hit let alone master to a point of being able to manipulate them, but it was clear McCree had been singing in that range for a long time based on what he was showing then. He wondered why Jesse didn't sing like that during his gigs? 

Speaking of singing differently away from his gigs, McCree felt way more emotional in that moment, seated on the floor of his apartment across from the florist then he did when Hanzo would watch him from the stool of a bar. His eyes would screw closed during intense moments, he'd move his head around with every lyric he uttered, and his muscles seemed to tense with every beat that flowed through him. (Not to say Hanzo was staring at his muscles or anything). It was a side of Jesse that Hanzo was very quickly growing to enjoy, somehow getting pulled into that emotion more with every passing song until before he knew it he was tapping his fingers and waving around right along with the singer. It was very nice. 

More on the note of the music, Hanzo couldn't exactly decipher every single lyric the man uttered in his musings on the first listen, but he could get a good gist of the song's message from what he could understand. A lot of Jesse's songs were about alcohol, being on the road, or being alone somehow. It was mildly concerning that all of his songs seemed to be about such negative subjects, but he sung them in such a way that they felt more bittersweet and reminiscent than actually negative. Like he was recalling a bad memory rather than wallowing in a current problem. Hanzo felt like he learned a lot about the cowboy through the few original songs he sung. 

After winding down another of his songs, Jesse messed with the stack of papers sitting next to him and pulled out a fairly new looking packet. Hanzo arched a brow. 

"I've got one more song to play…" McCree mumbled, golding the packet of papers and staring down at it as he announced his last performance. Hanzo feigned an exaggerated frown. 

"Aww. Already?" Jesse laughed to himself in response, tuning his guitar for a moment after setting the sheet music down. 

"Yes, this is my closin' act, im afraid. What, did you love my music enough to want more?" McCree teased, earning a smile from Hanzo. 

"Of course I did." 

The genuine reply put Jesse in a strange sort of trance for a moment, a flush coming over his face before he sheepishly glanced away. 

"Heh… Thanks, darlin'." He proceeded to strum his guitar once as a test, a lighter sound coming from it than his previous songs. 

"This is my most recent song. Doesn't have a name yet, I wrote it that soon." Hanzo hummed in response, leaning forward a bit. 

"What did you write it about? Must have been something recent if what you say is true." Hanzo questioned, prompting Jesse to nervously laugh and pull up his guitar as something of a distraction. 

"Y-You'll have to guess!" He settled with, drawing an eye roll from Hanzo but no retaliation. That was his cue to start, and though his fingers idled on the rigid cords of his instrument for a moment, he soon got into the rhythm of the song he had written for Hanzo. He closed his eyes as the lyrics encroached, too nervous to closely watch Hanzo's reaction to the song that was very clearly written about him. 

The lyrics came strongly over the melody. 

_ Everyday I sat and drank my whiskey _

_ It's the friend that'd always been with me  _

_ Lately the bottle's been sittin' all alone  _

_ And I've found a new place to call a home _

_ I wonder if it misses me  _

_ Or if it knows I'm happy  _

_ Now, I'm sorry, Mr. Daniels, _

_ I've found a new friend  _

_ He sits on my counter right on Ashe's end _

_ An opaque kind of drink, one that makes ya think.  _

_ "What's his deal? Where's he been?" _

_ But good luck gettin' in.  _

The chorus came with a swelling crescendo, one that swallowed Hanzo completely and soaked him in the feeling of the song. 

_ Hard like whiskey, _

_ Sweet like wine. _

_ You'd think I'd be able to make him mine, _

_ But he gives me jitters somethin' fierce, hes a tall glass of fear,  _

_ But I just keep drinkin'.  _

The next verse came similarly to the first, something of a level-down from the chorus that instilled that same bittersweet calmness. 

_ He goes down smooth _

_ But he don't sit well _

_ A prickly type-a poke with a floral sort-a smell _

_ He's best on ice, served frigid cold _

_ But he gets your throat in a fiery little hold _

_ And I know I should just keep what I got 'n fold…  _

_ No point in lettin' a blooming bud turn to mold… _

_ But he's the drink for me, _

_ A drink that he can't see.  _

As the chorus seemed to swell again, so did Hanzo's chest. He found himself leaning forward to surround himself in the music, every word soaking into his head. It felt more and more like this was directed at him… but that couldn't be it.

Right?

_ Hard like whiskey, _

_ Sweet like wine. _

_ You'd think I'd be able to make him mine, _

_ But he's so far ahead and I'm just so far behind _

_ Its a real tall climb _

_ But I'm gonna keep drinkin'. _

The rest of the song was just instrumental, Jesse's amazing guitar skills coming into play to create a satisfying wind down from the energy of his chorus. Hanzo was thankful for that moment of processing because his head was going a million miles a minute over the lyrics that he heard. The more he went over what he could remember the more he felt like the song was about… him. It must have been a coincidence that this was a recent song, right? It must have been a coincidence that this song about a hardened, mysterious but polite guy was written so recently after getting close to Hanzo, right? It had to be! 

After Jesse's song came to a close, he opened his eyes to find Hanzo in awe. He arched a brow and tilted his head, nerves flooding him at even the thought of Hanzo disliking the song he wrote about him. 

"Haha… you alright, Hanzo?" He started, smiling anxiously. His chest felt tight with anticipation and disappointment, his head swimming with fear. He wanted so badly to impress Hanzo, or at least make his feelings somewhat known to the man. As he considered that, his eyes flashes with concern.

Was that it? Did Hanzo get the message and grow disgusted? That gnawing fear in Jesse's stomach grew as time passed without a response, the feeling only pausing when Hanzo spoke again. 

"Jesse, that was… I just… You are…" Hanzo stumbled over his words, bringing a shocked expression to McCree's face. The man was usually very articulate, precise with his words, but this… this was a sign of raw shock. It didn't do much to quell his anxiety. 

"...I am?" Jesse teased, bringing a little smile to Hanzo's face.

"You're incredible." Hanzo finally sighed out, leaning forward the slightest bit. By that point, they weren't very far from each other. Hanzo's head started flooding with heat and some rather bad ideas. Well… bad in hindsight, anyway. Jesse sighed in relief, the heat of his breath grazing Hanzo's face and sending a wave of electricity down his spine. 

"Why, thank you. It… means a lot." He started, idling for a moment before continuing. 

"I've never really played my original stuff for anyone before. Didn't think any of it was really worth public attention, so…" He paused, shrugging. Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, but he paused. What was he to say? He had too much that he wanted to say, but he had no clue how to say it. He glanced down… McCree's hand laid idle against the floor. 

In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, Hanzo rested his own hand over Jesse's and caught his stare. 

"I think your music is… perfect." 

A moment of silence passed. As did another. One more went by. It didn't feel like time was passing, it was just the two of them in a vacuum. That vacuum began to close in on them without them even realizing, their faces closing in on each other until there was nothing left. A pinch of space was left between them.

Hanzo could feel Jesse's whiskey-heavy breath against his lips. He wondered if Jesse just had that lingering sort of feeling even when he didn't drink. On the other hand, Jesse could feel the sweet, wine-tinted breath of his companion against the hair above his lip. It rustled and sent little bursts of energy through his face, evident in the way his lips would twitch every few seconds.

Their eyes flashed up and down. Hanzo had never been in this type of situation, Genji didn't exactly cover this when they were going over every possible thing that could go wrong during his visit. His mind was telling him to back away before he made a fool of himself, but his instinct was drawing closer to Jesse as if they were magnet and metal. 

Jesse had been in this type of situation before, many times, but it never had this type of tension. It was like there was an invisible wall between them that he was subtly trying to break through, the wall bending and tensing under his pressure. It was agonizing, the way they sat in radio silence mere touches away from each other. 

It would be so easy to just… close the space. 

All it took was the move of one of the two. 

And, despite thinking it a horrid idea even in the moment,

A certain cowboy took that initiative. 

He pushed through the invisible wall, shoved through the mesh of reality and broke into that moment he was pining so desperately for for so long. 

When they're lips finally connected, Hanzo was shocked into complete stillness. Jesse had to commit to his decision, so commit he did, pressing his lips gently but confidently against the florist's. 

Hanzo felt his face erupt into fire. The contact against his lips was overwhelming, and just as soon as he was thrusted into that situation, he was ready to commit himself as well. The subtle movements of McCree's lips against his felt monumental, even the wayward twitch made them completely change their motions. The hair above and below Jesse's lips brushed against Hanzo's own and created a lovely friction. 

Hanzo took the initiative to scoot himself closer to his cowboy, brushing papers aside to get closer to Jesse and even bringing his hands up to hold the man's furred jawline. 

Hanzo had never kissed anyone before, he didn't really know how to. Despite that, he found that he quite liked the sensation, and if Jesse could tell that Hanzo was inexperienced, he didn't show it. The cowboy was so gentle with him, not even having raised his hands or made any moves past initiating the kiss in the first place. He let Hanzo be as he was, let him set his own pace, and something about that made him swell with emotion. It was a realization that he had been doing that all along, letting Hanzo set his own pace. 'How long did McCree want to do this?', he pondered. 'How long have I wanted to do this?', he continued. All his thoughts and questions seemed to melt away when he tilted his head against Jesse. Just that sensation was enough to numb him. 

Jesse had kissed before, many times, but it never felt like this. To have Hanzo move closer to him, to have him grasp his jaw and move accordingly, to have Hanzo so naturally acclimate to the situation. His lips were soft, but he used them in such a way that they gave the sensation of someone with a rougher taste. For a rookie, or at least for what Jesse  _ assumed  _ was a rookie, he was pretty damn good at kissing. Add that to the list of things that Jesse admired in the florist.

By the time the two of them separated for air, they were in beyond frazzled states. They both heaved for air before even attempting to speak. Jesse was the first to say something, just as he was the first to make a move. 

"Well…" He started, his voice a deep, growly rumble in the small space between them. It made cavalcades in Hanzo's chest. 

"I didn't think you liked it  _ that  _ much." Ever still the joker between them, Jesse rumbled a chuckle out between them. Just that sound alone sparked an undeniable flame in the florist's throat, one strong enough to lunge him back against the cowboys lips once again. After a moment of acclimation to the turned tables, Jesse was quick to adapt to the pace that Hanzo set, that being with a bit more desperation than before. The florist was getting addicted to the sensation, the heat against his lips that sent adrenaline through his body. One hand slid up from Jesse's jaw to nestle in his unruly hair, uissing it even further while the other remained along the sharp crease of his jaw. 

What this meant for them, Hanzo wasn't sure. Neither of them were, really, but what they  _ did _ know was that the energy of this interaction was getting a bit… heated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of Wrecking Ball i used for inspiration is the Live Sessions version that Mother Mother performed!! And as for the song McCree wrote, the vibes I used while writing the lyrics was something like Sit Next To Me by Foster the People! Also, fair warning, next chapter might get a bit heated if you know what I mean know what I mean haha (to be fair it probably won't get super graphic, but fair warnings fair) thanks for reading!!


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